The Misadventures of a Pragmatic Dragonborn
by Faisalliot
Summary: The dragon tore it's eyes from hers and flew up from the ground, sending down gusts of air great enough to bring her to her knees. The dragon loomed above her and let out a terrible roar. A great gout of flame spurted from it's throat as it screamed, "Zu'u fen ni oblaan!" A retelling of Skyrim's story lines following a Dragonborn who's a little more pragmatic than others.
1. Chapter 1

Akatosh sighed, cradling the fragment of a much larger soul in his hands. The very last fragment, in fact.

"Ah, sending along another Dragonborn to defeat your firstborn, I presume?" The voice of Kyne sounded from behind the Divine.

"Yes...Kyne, I tire of this endless cycle. I send another Dragonborn into a different timeline, and every time, each one succeeds, and events always unfold the same way. The College rises and falls, the Companion's gain a new leader, and so on. This does not irk me, but it's the repetitiveness of this Dragonborn that never ceases of bother me. Never the same face, but always the same words."

"Well, they tend to marry or adopt different children, and some do not pursue all of the options, opting to stick to one of their mortal-made organizations."

"I'm aware, but does it not bother you that...virtually the same words escape this Dragonborn in every timeline?"

"I suppose that may prove to become maddening with time." Kyne hummed in understanding. "You never really constructed a true reason for this Dragonborn to come to the land of Skyrim, did you? Perhaps if you did so, things may variate." Kyne mused.

"What do you mean? Of course I have."

Kyne frowned. "It is rarely any more than them appearing on a whim."

Akatosh sighed, knowing he'd been beaten. Curse him for being so sentimental for the sake of his creation. Ah, his creations. One of them was to be destroyed, destroyed for good shall this Dragonborn succeed. "I do not know what to do with this one, though. This one is quite special, or will be."

"How so?"

"My son, my firstborn...he is weakening."

Kyne gazed down at the fragment cradled in Akatosh's palm, and her eyes went wide. "All-maker's wisdom...is that the last shard there is?"

Akatosh nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. The time for my firstborn's end is drawing near."

Kyne touched his shoulder in comfort, peering at the final shard. "This Dragonborn will need all the strength we can give to them. Alduin will be his strongest; he will not be willing to die."

"I know."

Kyne hummed, straightening. "I'll summon the others."

It only took a moment, but each and every Divine and Deity arose from the ground, huddling around the final shard. Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Shezarr, Mara, Morihaus, Reman, Stendarr, Talos, Zenithar, Herma-Mora, Jhunal, Maloch, Orkey, Stuhn, Shor, Tsun, Ysmir, Jephre, Lorkhan, Magnus, Phynaster, Syrabane, Trinimac, Xarxes, Xen, Jode, Jone, Lorkhan, Xarxes, Y'ffre, Auri-El, Jephre, Phynaster, Syrabane, Almalexia, Azura, Boethiah, Dagoth Ur, Mehrunes Dagon, Mephala, Molag Bal, Nerevar, Sheogorath, Sotha Sil, Vivec, Diagna, HoonDing, Ius, Leki, Malooc, Morwha, Onsi, Ruptga, Satakal, Sep, Tava, Tu'whacca, Zeht, Phynaster, Sheor, Z'en, Alkosh, Baan Dar, Hircine, Masser, Secunda, Ja-Kha'jay, Khenarthi, Rajhin, Riddle'Thar, Sangiin, Clavicus Vile, Kin, Trinimac, and Malacath all crowded the room, talking, laughing, and arguing.

Akatosh brought his fist down sharply, creating a mighty boom. The room fell silent. Kyne stood in front of Akatosh and addressed everyone.

"Everyone, please. Settle down. The time has come."

"For what?" Y'ffre asked, leaning forward.

"It is time to send out the soul of the last Dragonborn."

Malacath snorted. "And? Why're you bothering us about it?"

"You do not understand. This is the final Dragonborn, the last there will ever be. Alduin can hide no longer."

The room fell into stunned silence, the divines and deities looking among each other.

"Surely that cannot be the last?" Magnus asked, looking sadly at the final shard.

"I'm afraid so. Alduin will not go down easily; he is unwilling to die. I have brought you all before us to bestow something upon them before they are sent on their way. They will need the help."

"Before we do that," Auri-El began, "Who will they be?"

"Ooh, ooh! Make them a handsome boy!" Morwha cried, her four arms swinging wildly.

"Morwha, calm yourself." Azura drawled, shifting her weight onto one foot. "Besides, we have more than enough male heroes, why not make it into a girl!?"

"Ha! Only a man is suited for this grueling task!" Clavicus Vile barked a laugh. "Women are too emotional for this dirty work!"

Sangiin hurled his mug at Clavicus. "Shut yer mouth," He slurred. "Girls are fucken amazing!"

"You're just saying that because you like their boobies!"

The room erupted into squabbles, shouts of each and every race filling the air. Gender, eye color, hair, personality, everything was argued about and every sense of dignity and order in the room was thrown to the wind. Mara slowly approached Kyne and Akatosh as the fight continued.

"Give the shard to me," Mara gently ordered, reaching out her palm. "This Dragonborn must be strong. The strongest power there is, is love."

"Mara," Akatosh cried weakly, furrowing his eyebrows at her embarrassing words.

"It is true. I will give them their strength. I know what must be done."

Akatosh helplessly handed the shard to Mara, who cradled it gently. A golden glow enveloped her, drawing the attention of the squabbling deities. There were cries of outrage, but they knew they could do nothing, lest they jeopardize the soul shard itself. Mara's hood fell from her head as she tilted it back and rose from the ground, her eyes gently closed. Her auburn hair waved around her face, falling loose from it's braid as it floated upwards. She began to speak loudly and clearly as the shard shivered in her palms.

"You are the last Dragonborn, a Redguard, destined to defeat Alduin. The road ahead of you in treacherous, that is undeniable, but with these blessings may you persevere and allow your path to guide you to victory. I name you...Ishtar Alanis, the 13th Shaman of the ancient Alanis family. You will face many hardships in your life that will teach you lessons, and the meaning of sorrow. I bestow upon you the gift of my maternity. May it show you the light in the dark and allow you to spread joy wherever you go. I give you Dibella and Morwha's seductivity, may it guide you from a bind. I give you Herma-Mora and Magnus's wisdom, may it give you the ability to strategize."

Mara intoned her blessings onto the final Dragonborn for a long time, leaving no god out. When she was finished, she sank to the floor in exhaustion, slumping into Akatosh's waiting arms. Every deity stepped forward and touched the fragment to make Mara's words come true, murmuring words beneath their breaths to the soul.

Akatosh left Mara to Kyne, standing above the soul. Slashing his palm, he watched droplets of his own blood fall upon it. Sadly, he held the soul over the edge of the rushing river of time in which the All-Maker, his creator, resided.

"Ishtar Alanis, 13th Shaman of the ancient Alanis family, and the Final Dragonborn, I send you on your way. All-maker guide you."

The All-maker smiled at him, or so he felt, and the water gently floated upwards to just touch his hand. He watched as the soul fragment gently floated into the current, quickly washed away out of sight. He closed his eyes, feeling his heart ache.

"Farewell, my son," He muttered to himself, thinking of his firstborn. "Good luck, Final. You shall need it."

* * *

All things considered, Ishtar had to say that her brief time in Skyrim had been kind of entertaining, but this really wasn't the ideal way for it all to end. Between slapping some entitled soldier after he fondled her where he certainly shouldn't have, and ending up knocked out and stripped of all her belongings, dying because her hands were bound together behind her back while she was face-down on the ground really sucked ass. It sucked even more ass considering there was a dragon rampaging just feet away and she had no idea what was going on. Judging by all the screaming, she was pretty sure everyone was dying. Fantastic. At least that gag the asshole soldier had put in her mouth had fallen out in all the confusion, so if she started to get burned or chewed on by the dragon, she could scream. Despite all the wailing and dying noises, Ishtar caught the sound of someone approaching from the left. Maybe they could help her!

"Hey!" She yelled, squiggling a little as if to announce that, hey, she was still alive. "Whoever's over there, could you make yourself useful and cut me loose?! I'd like to die with a little bit of my dignity intact!"

The person gasped loudly and she could hear their feet skid on the crumbling pathway as if they'd jumped. "By the nine, you startled me! I thought you were dead!" A familiar man's voice sounded from close behind her, closer than she'd expected.

"Yeah, that's great and all but I'm going to be dead in a minute anyway if you don't get your ass in gear and cut me loose." Ishtar spat, wiggling vigorously as if to prove her point.

"Oh, yeah," The man seemed to shake himself before kneeling behind her.

There was the tell-tale scrape of a knife leaving it's sheathe before Ishtar felt the rope binding her hands behind her back snap, setting her wrists free. Ishtar scrambled to her feet and wordlessly yanked her companion upright, keeping her eyes on the movements of the nearby dragon. The sky swirled ominously in her peripheral vision. In any other situation, she might've laughed at the cliche feeling of the moment. Swirling, dark sky, screaming people, fire everywhere, buildings collapsed? Check, check, check, and check. Classic scene in some horror stories she'd heard in the past.

"Thanks for that. I'd figured I was kind of screwed, face-down on the ground like that, but I guess not." Ishtar rubbed the sore part of her wrists, turning to look at her savior. "You're that talkative dude who was in that cart with me. Ralof, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but I don't think this is time for introductions. Let's get moving! If we don't find somewhere stone and _not_ wood sometime in the near future we're dead!" Ralof tugged on Ishtar's arm as the dragon swerved in the air towards their general direction.

"Good call," Ishtar whirled around, dashing into a nearby stone tower with Ralof close in tow.

There were already three men and a woman taking shelter inside, all in navy blue and tan cuirasses, except for the Ulfric Stormcloak guy whom she'd hear Ralof speaking highly of in the cart no longer than twenty minutes prior.

"Jarl Ulfric, what was that thing?! Could the legends be true?!"

'Of course it's fucking true' Ishtar thought, knowing full well that there was most certainly a dragon circling outside, inwardly rolling her eyes. 'What the fuck else is it supposed to be?'

"Legends don't burn down villages,"

There was a horrendous crash outside the doorway and flames began to lick the edges of the nearby dying grass. "We need to move, now!" Ulfric loudly announced, herding Ralof away from the door.

Ishtar turned her attention to the fallen men and the woman who were huddled in pathetic balls on the stone ground. One of the men wasn't even injured, so Ishtar kicked him sharply in the back to get him off his ass, whereas the man to the left had a copious amount of light bruises and scrapes, and the woman had a sizable gash on her side that she was clutching, her face pale. Now, Ishtar was no master of restoration magic, but she knew enough to get by. Gently grabbing the woman's wrist, she pulled away her hand and let a golden glow fill her own. The woman began to tremble, but seemed surprised as she watched her own wound close.

"Is that all there is?" Ishtar murmured, tugging down the woman's cuirass.

The woman nodded, choking out a shaky, "T-Thank you."

"Whatever, I'll just work on your friend here, stand up and start moving. Try not to die." Ishtar told the woman coarsely, kind of winded from the single use of her healing spell alone.

Gods, she seriously needed to work on her magic. Otherwise, she'd need to figure out how to do alchemy. She leaned back on her haunches and fixed up the other guy before helping him up. It was in that moment that the dragon decided it was a fantastic idea to bash it's face into the side of the stone tower, creating a gigantic hole in the stonework. Ralof screamed. 'So much for shelter', Ishtar thought, pressing her lips into a thin line. A column of fire singed the stonework as Ishtar ducked down, pressing her back against the wall. As the dragon flew off, most likely in search of prey that was easier to get at, Ishtar noticed the top of the nearby inn was destroyed.

"Hey, I'm gonna jump through there. The rest of you, follow." She ordered sharply, pointing at the collapsed roof of the inn.

"What?! Are you insane?! There's a dragon out there!" The woman cried, looking between her and the darkened sky incredulously.

"Yeah, no shit! And if we stay here, we're going to be dragon dinner! I don't know about you, but I don't fancy being a sitting duck!" Ishtar seethed at the woman.

The woman stared at her without moving. Without another word, Ishtar jumped from the tower and sailed through the air, rolling onto the charred floor of the inn.

She felt the jab of metal dig into her palm as she landed, and hissed quietly as she quickly healed herself. Wiping the blood from her palm, she looked around for whatever she'd stabbed herself with, figuring it was a weapon of some kind. Her spindly fingers brushed over the hilt of an iron dagger. It was a pretty shitty weapon, but it would have to do. She heard a series of landing thumps behind her, and she turned to see Ulfric, Ralof, one of the men, and the woman who'd been in the tower. Nodding at them, she turned heel and lead the way out, running straight into Hadvar. Ishtar barely had a second to think 'fuck' before the dragon landed right in front of them all. 'Damn it all to Oblivion,' Flynn cursed, but stopped short when it registered that there was kid right in front of the dragon's maw.

A _kid._

'Oh, fuck no!' She thought. Doing what was most likely the stupidest thing she'd done in her life, Ishtar stooped down to pick up a large stone and lividly hurled it right at the dragon's snout. Waving her arms wildly to attract it's attention, she charged forwards with the dagger she'd picked up in the decimated inn at the ready. She roughly pushed the child out of the crossfire and to the safety of Hadvar's arms, then sliced the dragon straight across what appeared to be it's nose. The dragon let out a keening sound, and stared her in the eyes for all of two seconds. She could see herself reflected in the red irises. The dragon looked...just as afraid as she did. The dragon tore it's eyes from hers and flew up from the ground, sending down gusts of air great enough to bring her to her knees. The dragon loomed above her and let out a terrible roar. A great gout of flame spurted from it's throat as it screamed, _**"Zu'u fen ni oblaan!"**_

'I will not end!' rang in Ishtar's head. She shook it off in favor of dodging the incoming fire and preparing to run like Molag Bal was about to throw her into his sex dungeon.

"Everyone to the right!" Ishtar darted out of the way of the fire before it could char her entirely.

The child from before (wasn't he the kid who'd wanted to watch the soldiers?) ran into her legs, clutching at her waist with his little arms. Crouching down and wrapping herself around him, she covered his head and turned her back to the dragon, waiting for the dragon to try to torch her. Except, for some reason, this dragon decided that this small group of delicious-looking humans weren't worth it's time and it flew off elsewhere. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, she picked up the trembling kid, who quickly hid his face in the junction of her neck. She looked at the group of people she'd amassed.

"You lot," She addressed them, looking sharply at Ralof and Hadvar, who had decided that now was a great time to squabble like skeevers over a breadcrumb. "Now is not the time for bad blood. Some of us are Imperials, some are Stormcloaks or whatever, and some of us are just people. That doesn't matter right now. What matters right now is not dying, because there's a dragon out here. We need to get underground, and we need to get there fast before this dragon comes by again. Got it? Stop bickering." Ishtar looked between her small group.

The new additions were another (very, very anxious looking) woman, a Breton man, Hadvar, and the kid in her arms.

"Flynnigan is right," The Imperial woman agreed, her eyes fluttering between both Flynn and the boy in her arms. Ishtar remembered this lady; she was standing by as a soldier before she'd almost gotten executed. "I know where the keep is. Keep carrying Haming for me, will you, Flynnigan? Let's go!"

Flynnigan? Ah, Flynnigan. Gods, why had she chosen that name on the spot? Why had she panicked and used a fake name in the first place? That was an awful name. Still, Ishtar supposed it would be awkward to say her name wasn't actually Flynnigan, so she supposed Flynnigan was her name now. Fantastic. Flynnigan was long as hell though; 'Flynn' was less of a mouthful. 'Alright, Flynn it is," Ishtar, or rather, Flynn thought to herself. If she wanted to not sound like an idiot when introducing herself (assuming she made it out of this alive), she'd need to start thinking of herself as Flynn. Yes, her name was Flynn, and she was a very brave woman who was certainly not scared shitless right now. Good. Besides, if she made it out alive from this shit-show, it'd be good to have a fake name to fall back on, lest some people from Hammerfell tried to find her, which she could not allow. She'd had enough close calls in the past. Her foot scraped against some gravel and she stumbled before she corrected herself as followed behind the Imperial woman.

"Where are your parents, kid?" Flynn asked the young boy quietly as she jogged, dodging pillars of fire and the dive-bombing dragon.

"D-Daddy isn't here anymore," The kid said in a terribly shaky voice, his tears and snot rubbing into her shoulder.

Balls.

"What about your mama?"

The kid pointed a soot covered finger at the Imperial woman who was leading the way to the keep.

"That's your mom?"

The kid nodded, leaning his head back on her shoulder. Someone in her group screamed.

"Why am I holding you, then?" Flynn chuckled, lightly prodding the boy's side in a half-assed attempt at a joke.

The kid huffed a laugh, hiccuping a little. "Mama says she can't carry me like than anymore because I'm too big."

Flynn had the distinct feeling that the kid's mom would give no shits about how big he was at this point so long as he stayed alive, but she'd keep that to herself for now. "Fair enough, little one."

The dragon dove behind her and snapped at her. Throwing herself to the left, Flynn protected the kid's head and slid down the wall before the dragon flew off. The kid screamed until she got back up and reunited with her group. The Imperial woman looked very relieved to see them both again.

Soon enough, the Keep came into view. "Come on! Go! Go! Go!" Hadvar yelled at the group, ducking into the keep as the Imperial woman held the door open.

Flynn was the last one inside, and she caught a glimpse of the dragon landing right behind them before she hastily slammed the door shut.

"Mama!" The kid yelled, and for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment Flynn thought she'd closed the door on the Imperial lady before the little boy wriggled out of her grip, running into his mother's arms.

Flynn winced a little as the kid barreled into his mother's chest, knowing that had probably been painful for both of them.

"Oh, Haming, you had me so worried!" The Imperial woman cried, immediately beginning to sob as she clutched her son close to her chest.

"I was so scared, mama!" 'Haming' babbled, fat tears dribbling down his cheeks as he hugged his mother tightly, seemingly unfazed by slamming his face into her armor.

Damn, it never ceased to amaze Flynn how metal kids could be.

Huffing for breath, Flynn leaned against the stone wall, the dying screams of people outside making her chest feel tight. Shit, that was close. What the hell had she been thinking, charging a dragon like that?

"Alright, is everyone accounted for? I counted 5 guys, two women, and the kid." Ulfric addressed the group.

"We're missing 2 guys..." Hadvar bit his lip. "Has anyone seen Edelhard?"

"If you're talking about the guy with red hair, the dragon got him." The Stormcloak lady reported. "We're missing Gunnar. We lost Frey earlier because he wouldn't leave the tower, but you didn't see him."

"Fuck," Ralof hissed.

They were down to 7 people.

"Okay, first and foremost, I'm not going to refer to everyone as "you there". What's everyone's names?" Flynn huffed, pulling herself upright.

"My name is Alfhild, and that's Ralof and Ulfric." Alfhild pointed to her Stormcloak friends respectfully as she went along.

"I'm Eira, and this is my son, Haming. Hadvar's over there." Eira squeezed her son's shoulder.

"Well, I'm Flynnigan, but for the love of Mara, call me Flynn." Flynn introduced herself. "I'm the only one here not affiliated with Imperials or Stormcloaks, so I'm the leader since I'll be the least biased. Anyone who argues will be hit."

"But-!" Ralof began, before Flynn slapped him on the shoulder. "Hey! Ow! Who said you were the leader?"

"I did, jackass- Sorry, Eira -you have ears, don't you? Now, shut your mouth and cooperate." Flynn snapped, slapping Ralof on the back of the head for good measure.

Hadvar snickered and Ralof threw a pebble at him, which earned them both a sharp look from Flynn. "Now, is everyone capable of defending yourself, got a weapon? I don't imagine everyone in this tower is going to be as cooperative as Eira and Hadvar when faced with three so-called prisoners."

"I don't have anything," Haming said meekly.

"I wasn't expecting you to, little one. Borrow my dagger for now." Flynn said gently, handing the dagger she'd picked up in the decimated inn. "I don't imagine you can even pick up a sword, yet."

Haming pursed his lips, looking down at the dagger.

"Hold it like this," Flynn instructed as she tilted his wrist and held it in place, "Keep a firm grip and go for a motion like so," She helped Haming bring down the dagger in a clean swipe. "There. Don't cut yourself, Haming."

"Okay," Haming mumbled, repeating the slicing motions Flynn had shown him.

Leafing through the contents of the room, Flynn picked up a brittle and entirely shitty iron sword and donned some Imperial armor quickly, ignoring the glances she got from Hadvar and Ralof. She stretched her fingers out in the steel gauntlets she'd found, testing the mobility of the steel. It was a little stiff, but it'd have to do. Rolling her shoulders and stretching out her arms, she kept a firm grip on the sword and tilted her head at her group, cuing them to move. Eira scooped up Haming and all 6 adults went careening down the stone hallways, ignoring the roars from the dragon outside. Everyone came to a halt as Ralof and Alfhild gasped.

"Gunjar! No!" Alfhild cried breathlessly, creeping towards the corpse of a fallen Stormcloak man.

"Didn't we lose Gunjar outside?" Eira quirked a brow, peering at the unfamiliar body whilst pressing Haming's face into the crook of her neck so he wouldn't have to see the corpse.

"No, this is Gunjar, not Gunnar." Ulfric explained briefly. "May Talos lift their souls to Sovngarde."

"Yeah, okay. Does he have a weapon on him better than this shi- crappy, sorry Eira-, iron sword?"

Hadvar turned and shot Flynn an incredulous look, flicking a hand towards Gunjar's corpse and the two mourning Stormcloaks.

"Why do you keep apologizing to my mom?" Haming asked from his perch in the crook of Eira's left elbow.

"I'm trying not to curse in front of you, 'cause you're a kid." Flynn explained, before turning back to Alfhild and Ralof's direction. "Well, then? Does he have anything good?"

Ralof gestured kind of helplessly towards Gunjar's corpse and said, "Flynn, he's dead ."

"Yeah? So what?! I'll be dead soon if I don't get a weapon better than this iron sword! What am I supposed to do with this thing anyway?! Kill butterflies?! That'd honestly probably be difficult with this piece of crap anyway!"

Everyone was staring at her as if she was insane.

"Oh, he's a corpse now! Boohoo! Yeah, that's great. All of us are going to be corpses if we don't get back on our feet, all with decent weapons, and get underground before that dragon outside decides that this place is a really good place to destroy! " Flynn spat savagely, looking between the occupants of the room.

"I hate to say it, but she has a point." Hadvar said meekly, stooping down and plucking a steel dagger out of Gunjar's boot. "Will this be better for you?"

"Yes, very much so." Flynn nodded, throwing her iron sword across the room, listening in glee as it clanged loudly against the nearby metal gate and broke in half.

"What was that?" A familiar, and entirely unpleasant voice sounded from where Flynn and her group had come from.

Ugh, fuck. It was the Imperial Commander who was going to send her to her death for no reason. Flynn had some choice words for that bitch.

"Eira, hide with Haming!" Hadvar whispered harshly, readying his sword arm.

Eira quickly ducked behind the bit of the stone wall that jutted out, concealing her and Haming from sight.

Ralof shot Hadvar a questioning look, who hissed, "My commander isn't going to take kindly to us hanging out with you prisoners. We'll probably have to kill her; I don't want the kid to see that."

Ralof nodded as the Imperial Commander rounded the corner, her slanted eyes narrowing to the point that it looked like she probably couldn't see properly.

"Lieutenant Hadvar," She drawled slowly, eyeing the prisoners and Ulfric Stormcloak himself behind Hadvar. "What is the meaning of this treachery?"

"With all due respect, ma'am, there is a dragon destroying Helgen outside. I don't like these stormcloaks any more than you do, but rebels or not, I want to stay alive. If they can help me remain that way, so be it. Do you want to stay with us, or am I going to have to do something drastic?" Hadvar's voice was pure ice, and if it wasn't for his sword shaking in his hand, Flynn might've been a little impressed.

"Is that a threat?" The commander asked, her voice so cold it seemed to make the room drop a few degrees in temperature.

"Maybe it is."

"Sergeant Marcus, help me take down these traitors!" the Imperial Commander commanded the soldier by her side, and without another word she charged forward with her sword arm at the ready.

With nimble feet, Flynn swept in front of Hadvar and blocked the swing of the commander's blade, small golden sparks flashing as steel met steel. The commander grunted as she skidded backwards, leaning forward and swiping at Flynn's left side, the leather of her armor giving easily underneath the blow of the steel sword. Flynn sharply gasped as she felt her skin split open, but she could feel it was a shallow cut. Swinging her arm in a graceful arc, she went to cut the Commander's face but cursed loudly as the commander disarmed her by slamming the flat of her blade against Flynn's wrist. She watched in dismay as her steel dagger skidded across the floor, landing behind the boot of Sergeant Marvin or whatever his name was. The commander smiled victoriously and swung at Flynn again, who ducked out of the way in the nick of time. Suddenly, Flynn got an idea, one that was equal parts moronic and brilliant.

She was wearing gauntlets, wasn't she? Gauntlets made of very hard and probably painful metal. Plus, she'd be damned if she couldn't throw a punch. Not to mention, this bitch wanted to kill her for no gods damned reason. So, logically, this would work. Flynn's left fist rocketed forward and landed right on the commander's nose, which made a satisfying crunch before it spurted out blood. She heard the dying gasp of Sergeant Marcus as he fell by Alfhild's hand, and saw everyone freeze in her peripheral vision. The Commander stooped down from the force of Flynn's punch, stumbling backwards as her right hand flew up to clutch at her nose on reflex.

"You whor-!" The commander began to yell before getting cut off by another blow to her right cheek.

Flynn wasn't quite sure what she was trying to accomplish, but whatever she was doing appeared to be working. She rained punch after punch on the commander, her gauntlets staining with blood. The commander's screams were quickly drowned out by the ringing in Flynn's ears. Or, perhaps she'd stopped screaming. Flynn couldn't tell. The ringing in her ears was so loud, it was too loud, but she couldn't stop throwing swing after swing. She could feel her knuckles split open, and she could feet blood running freely all over the place but she didn't care. Everything was so loud, so bright, so overwhelming and she could feel herself slipping. She could vaguely register cracking and crunching noises, but she felt like she was underwater. She felt like she wasn't there at all. Like she'd disappeared, and she was nothing more than a floating head. A feeling begin to bubble in Flynn's chest, and it wasn't a good feeling; she felt like she was burning. She felt her eyes crinkle and her body start to tremble. Everything felt hot, so hot. It was like she was on fire. She wanted everything else to be on fire.

She punched harder. Her hands shook.

Crack.

The commander had wanted to kill her for no reason.

Crunch.

She punched harder. The commander wasn't moving anymore. There was so much blood.

Pop.

The commander's body collapsed onto the ground; Flynn collapsed with it. Fragments of rock dug into her knees and she punched harder. All she'd wanted to do was get out of Hammerfell. She wanted to live a peaceful life, all by herself and have a fresh start-

Squelch.

-And this commander almost took that opportunity away from her, when she'd been so close to finally being safe! Was it so wrong to want to feel safe?! To not feel like every step you took was wrong?! Someone was screaming.

Crunch squelch pop.

Someone was yelling at her, but she didn't care. She didn't _care_. Her cheeks felt wet. Her throat felt tight. What did 'safe' even mean? She had no idea.

Crack crack squelch squelch.

She had made it out of that skeever-hole known as home, where everything had always been her fault. It was all over! She was finally free, finally going to live a normal life and be happy-

Squelch squelch squelch.

-but no! Everything she'd worked so hard for was going to be _ruined_. And not only that but there was a fucking dragon outside! Was she just not good enough to live a happy life? What had she ever done to make the gods hate her so much? Did the gods even know she existed?! Did they even fucking care?!

Squelch Squelch Spurt.

"FLYNN!"

Someone was yanking her arms back and yelling at her. Her cheeks felt wet, and her throat felt raw. She swayed dangerously to the left and caught herself with her hand.

Her _hand._

Holy _shit_ her hand. The gore caked all around the gauntlet suddenly slapped Flynn back into reality, just in time to hear Alfhild start to yell at her.

"Woman, what the fuck was that?!" Alfhild looked Flynn in the face, her eyes wide and hands shaking.

Alfhild was afraid. Afraid of her. As if her gauntleted hand wasn't enough before, that was striking enough to catapult Flynn back to full coherency.

"I-I...fuck I'm...I'm sorry I just, I-I don't know." Flynn inwardly cringed at how bad her voice shook, flexing her fingers absently.

Flynn's chest heaved as she looked down at the mess she'd made. The commander was completely unrecognizable, and definitely dead. Her entire skull had been caved in by the force of Flynn's blows, brains and blood splattered everywhere. Slowly, Flynn looked down on her gauntlets again to see them caked with mutilated flesh, fragments of bone, and a copious amount of blood. Looking back and forth between both the body of the commander and her gauntlets, Flynn felt sick. That was the first person she'd ever actually...killed. She could hear one of her group members vomiting. Gods, what had she done? Her legs shaking terribly, Flynn scrambled back onto her feet, trying to focus on staying upright instead of the body of the commander.

"What's going on over there?!" Eira demanded from her hiding place with Haming.

"Eira! Stay over there, don't let Haming see any of this!" Flynn barked out a command, struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Haming, stay here. I'm going to see what's going on." Eira said to Haming, emerging from behind the wall.

Eira strode towards the group with purpose before stopping short, her eyes widening at the sight of the commander's body. Her eyes flew directly to Flynn's gauntlets.

"Dammit, Eira, I told you to stay over there!" Flynn hissed, hastily ripping her gauntlets off her hands and hurtling them towards the wall.

Eira stared at Flynn with a mixture of several emotions flitting over her face, not speaking for a long time. "What have you _done?"_

Eyes darting back to the commander and back to Eira, Flynn exhaled shakily, pushing a trembling hand through her hair.

Her fingers knotted into the coarse black strands and she yanked on her hair lightly. "I don't...I don't know what came over me. I was just-just so angry. Fuck, I...I need to burn her body. Haming can't see this."

"Mama? What's going on? Can I come out now?" Haming called from behind the wall, his little foot beginning to peek out from behind the stonework.

 _"NO!_ " Eira yelled savagely, loud enough to make Ulfric jump, "Stay behind that wall! Don't come out until I tell you to, you hear me?!"

Haming gasped and his foot disappeared behind the wall again. Without waiting for anyone to say anything else, Flynn called forth a flame into the palm of her hand before sending a plume of fire towards the Imperial Commander's corpse. Unable to bring herself to look away, Flynn watched as the commander's body was consumed by red, quickly deteriorating to nothing but ash. Gods, what the fuck was wrong with her? She didn't even know the commander's name, and yet...she'd done that. Flynn stared at the place the commander's body had once occupied long after it was gone, long after Alfhild and Hadvar had moved Sergeant Marcus and Gunjar's bodies out of sight, and long after Haming had been allowed to come out from behind the wall. She stared in silence until Ulfric called her name.

"Flynn," He said, scuffing the ground with his boot as if he was apprehensive about talking to her. "since you're the self-proclaimed leader, what do we do now?"

A loud rumbling noise echoed from somewhere down the hallway and Flynn heard people screaming. Right, there was still a dragon outside. This was not the time to have a crisis with herself.

"Hadvar, Eira, you two have been stationed here. Which way will take us underground?" Flynn asked, turning to the two Imperial soldiers.

Hadvar stiffened as she looked at him and Flynn felt her chest ache somewhere. She'd already fucked up.

"Down there. We better hurry, though," Eira pointed to the left.

"What are we waiting for, then? Let's go." Flynn turned, her hair swishing behind her as she strode quickly down the hallway.

Sunlight streamed into a large hole in the ceiling, briefly blotted out by the swooping dragon. Ushering Haming and everyone else away from the gaping hole in the ceiling, Flynn kept an eye on the dragon until everyone was safely out of sight into the next room. The next room was blissfully empty of any soldiers. Looking around, Flynn spotted a shelf packed with a ton of healing potions. 'Jackpot', Flynn thought with glee.

"Hey, there's a bunch of healing potions over here. Let's take them." Flynn pointed.

"How are we going to carry them?"

Pursing her lips, Flynn looked around the room for any bags. That was a good question. Eyes landing on an innocent looking chest across the room, Flynn went to open it to find it was locked. 'Dammit.'

"Does anyone see a key or maybe some lockpicks?" Flynn asked over her shoulder, moving papers around on a nearby desk.

"Uhh...aha! I found a keyring." Alfhild yelled from across the room.

There was a clattering sound a few feet away from Flynn's left foot and she looked over to see that Alfhild had thrown the keys to her. "You have terrible aim, Alfhild." Flynn shook her head, scooping up the keys and shoving random ones into the chest's lock.

"I never said I was an archer," Alfhild replied before walking somewhere else.

Finally, one of the keys on the key ring slid into the lock and Flynn opened the lock, smiling. Hopefully the chest had something good in it. Opening the lid, Flynn saw that the chest had something even better than 'good' in it; it was filled with goodies, including her belongings! Excitement bubbling in her chest, Flynn yanked out her cloak and her enchanted bag. Jangling her bag, she felt that it was still as heavy as usual and still locked, meaning it still held her belongings. Gods, she was so glad to see her bag again; it was the only good thing that had come from her family. It had been passed down to her great grandmother, her grandmother, her mother, and finally her. It had been enchanted by a snow elf long ago to be big enough to hold anything inside of it. The only downside is that, while it could literally fit anything, it could get really heavy if you had a lot of shit in there, so you had to be pretty strong if you wanted to carry around a lot. Other than her bag, she was glad to have her cloak back. It acted as some sort of security blanket for her (Gods, that sounded really pathetic, even in her own head!), and it was enchanted to be resistant against magical damage and melee damage alike, so she was sure it'd be coming in handy more than once.

"What did you find in there?" Ulfric peered from behind Flynn's shoulder blade, eyeing her pleased face warily.

"My belongings." Flynn smiled gleefully, swinging her cloak around her shoulders and clipping her back onto her left hip.

"My sword is in here! Alfhild, Ralof, I think this is where they stored our stuff!" Ulfric yelled over his shoulder.

Ralof and Alfhild trotted over, eagerly searching through the chest and reacquiring their belongings.

Ralof spoke up once he'd grabbed everything that was his. "You know, there's some nice stuff in here. It'd be a shame to let it all go to waste, but we can't carry it all."

"What a pity," Alfhild shrugged.

"Actually," Flynn began, casting the opening spell on her bag, "I can get it. What's of worth in there?"

Alfhild eyed Flynn's small bag and snorted, "If you think you can stuff a whole sword in that tiny bag, be my guest."

Looking Alfhild dead in the eyes, Flynn wordlessly pulled a steel sword out of the chest and began to shove it into her bag. Alfhild briefly looked amused as if she thought Flynn was joking, but her face quickly melted into an expression of shock as the whole sword fit into Flynn's bag.

Spluttering and pointing a finger at the bag with wide eyes, Alfhild gaped, "What in the name of Oblivion?! Am I the only one who just saw that?!"

"Saw what?" Haming asked, peering over at Flynn.

Still silent, Flynn pulled the steel sword back out of her bag, watching Haming's eyes go wide.

"Whoa! How are you doing that?!" Haming gasped, looking down into Flynn's bag. "You've got a lot of stuff in here!"

"I know," Flynn smirked cheekily, "this was actually my great grandmother's bag. It was specifically enchanted to hold anything in it. The only downside is that it gets pretty heavy if you have too much junk in it. I remember that when I first got this bag, I shoved 50 apples in here just for laughs. Even then, it hardly weighed a thing."

"That's so cool!" Haming laughed. "Do you think I could fit in there?!"

"I think you're too big to fit through the opening, but it's plausible. I wouldn't try it though; you might get stuck in there." Flynn ruffled Haming's hair. "Help me shove all this stuff into my bag."

Together, Haming and Flynn made quick work of the contents of the chest. Haming laughed loudly, and Flynn peered over his shoulder and started laughing too. There was a bunch of nice clothing in there...and a bunch of lady briefs and loincloths. Haming and Flynn both exchanged a look and, while laughing, shoved all the clothes and underwear into her bag. Eh, she'd probably sell them later. Might as well humor the kid, and hey, if someone pissed her off enough, she had underwear to fling at their face. After everything was in her bag, Flynn clipped it back onto her hip, along with an Elven sword. Better safe than sorry. Afterwards, Flynn unceremoniously dumped all of the healing potions into her bag, knowing that the bottles wouldn't break. The bag was magical for a reason, and even if it wasn't magical enough, she was sure all the loincloths would cushion it.

"Alright, that's everything. Let's get out of here. Lead the way, Hadvar, Eira."

As they ran with haste behind Eira and Hadvar, Alfhild pulled on Flynn's cloak to get her attention. "Hey, I forgot to mention, but I found these gauntlets back there. Dunno what they're supposed to be made of, but given what happened with the, uh, other gauntlets you were wearing, I figured you could use these," Alfhild shrugged a little, extending a pair of somewhat worn gauntlets.

Flynn huffed a laugh when she recognized the carvings on the gauntlets from some of the books she'd read in the town library back home in Hammerfell. "What kind of Nord are you meant to be? These are of Nordic craft. See the carvings?"

"Oh," Alfhild muttered dubiously, "I've never seen any Nord-made armor like this."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Darkwater crossing. I've only lived in Windhelm for a little while...well, before I ended up here."

"Makes sense that you haven't seen these, then. There aren't a lot of good Nordic smiths in that area from what I've heard. It takes a skilled smith to make something like this." Flynn explained. "Thank you for giving me the gauntlets though, I appreciate your concern for me."

"No problem. For the record though, there IS a good smith in Windhelm, his name is Oengul War-Anvil. You'd do well to not insult him; he's my uncle."

"Oops, sorry. I suppose he's a good blacksmith, but he certainly isn't well known."

Alfhild scoffed and playfully punched Flynn on the shoulder. "You just haven't been in Skyrim long enough to hear about him. I'm telling you, he's making ripples!"

"Mhm," Flynn hummed disbelievingly and kept running, seeing Alfhild exasperatedly shaking her head in her peripheral vision.

Sliding her new gauntlets on her hands, Flynn flexed her fingers and smiled. A perfect fit.

* * *

"Through here!" Hadvar yelled, pointing at a large open area.

As everyone hurried against the creaking bridge, the floor began to rumble and the walls began to shake. Loose rocks and dirt began to tumble from the ceiling above. Flynn barely had a moment to even think of a curse word to yell before the first huge rock came crashing down, destroying the wood plank just behind her. The breeze left behind from the stone's plummet ghosted against the back of her neck, making her shudder. More large stones tumbled out of the ceiling, making horrible crashing noises as they collided with wood and rock. Just as the ceiling completely caved in, Flynn made it across, whipping her cloak away just in time to see a large rock slam where she would've been just a fraction of a second ago. The horrible rumbling stopped and Flynn gaped at the pile of rocks before her.

"Damn, that was close. You almost got crushed there, Flynn." Alfhild slapped her on the shoulder, a puff of dust appearing after her hand, "You're supposed to be leading us, not kicking the bucket."

"Well, we're not going back that way," Ralof unnecessarily commented, gesturing towards the rock pile and chuckling. "Hope no one dropped anything."

"I don't think we did. Well, we're here. We're underground, and pretty much safe." Hadvar sighed, slumping on a nearby rock. "I can't believe we're all still alive. Flynn, d'ya think it's fine here, since you're our self-proclaimed leader?"

Flynn scoffed, scuffing her boot against the loose gravel. "The ceiling just caved in a little ways behind us. Who's to say this area won't too? We're underground, but not far enough. We still need to locate an exit. We can sit for a minute, but we can't stop moving for long."

For a couple minutes, everyone stood around and chatted a little, very much glad to still be alive. There was a healthy amount of moaning and groaning when Flynn told everyone to get back up, but they had to keep moving for obvious reasons so no one really complained. The roaring of the dragon was a little too close for comfort. Following the happily gurgling stream, Ulfric and Flynn led the way down the damp, bumpy path.

Haming gasped loudly and pointed a chubby finger ahead. "Mama, is that a dead guy?!"

Eira immediately covered his eyes just in case, but the "dead guy" (who was most certainly dead) had long since been reduced to nothing but a skeleton, which really wasn't that traumatic. Eira uncovered Haming's eyes and Flynn plucked up the coin purse next to the poor sap. Free money was free money. Squeezing through the small rocky opening, the area opened into a large space with a suspicious amount of webs and egg sacs. Ulfric didn't seem to care and pushed past Flynn unabashedly.

"Sir, I'd be careful if I were you, these egg sacs look pretty...fresh…" Alfhild's voice slowly died out as she looked up, and following her gaze, Flynn saw why. "...Sir!" Alfhild said, a note of urgency in her tone.

"What the matter? Even if those little gremlins are still around, they're not that bad. Get a grip, let's go." Ulfric said grumpily, swinging his arms around exaggeratedly.

It was in that moment that a ginormous Frostbite spider descended from a large hole in the ceiling...directly on top of Ulfric. Letting out an entirely undignified shriek, he fell to the ground and flailed wildly. Reflexes finally kicking it, Flynn dashed forward and dealt a swift end to the spider on top of Ulfric with her new Elven sword. Gross spider juices spurted out of the wound she'd left behind, and the beast let out an ungodly high-pitched shriek before it knew no more. More (thankfully smaller) spiders began to descend from the ceiling on thin strands of webbing, and Flynn hopped around in a fashion that looked to be some sort of crazed version of the polka, killing the spiders as fast as she could while Ulfric continued screaming for no other reasons than the fact that there was gross spider juice in his mouth and tiny spiders were crawling on him. Once all the spiders were sufficiently destroyed, Ulfric, in all his kingly grace, scrambled upwards and threw up off to the side.

The rest of their group, who'd wisely (and dickishly) stayed back, came walking over to her. Alfhild rubbed Ulfric's back sympathetically while Eira and Hadvar burst into peals of laughter.

"Oooh! That's our High King everybody! Look at that grace, that majesty! He's so amazing!" Eira mocked, falling over herself with laughter.

Hadvar's words were nearly incomprehensible as he gasped out in between wheezes of laughter, "Did you see his face?!"

"Both of you, quit it. I think anyone would freak out if a gigantic spider landed on top of their heads!" Flynn swatted Hadvar upside the head. "Yeah, the shriek was a little undignified, but I'm sure you'd scream like a bitch too."

Ulfric shook himself, trying and failing to fix his expression. "Shut up!" He hissed, blushing a furious red. "Let's just go!"

Slipping and sliding on the mossy, slimy rocks, they all followed a stomping Ulfric until they came across a sleeping bear. After a bit of squabbling, they decided against attempting to sneak past it, mostly because Flynn exasperatedly had stomped forward and stabbed it in the neck, killing it instantly. Almost too soon, the exit of the cave came into view.

"Oh, thank Arkay that there's actually an exit. I was afraid there wouldn't be." Eira sighed, leaning against the wall, basking in the dim glow of the light for a minute. "Haming, are you okay?"

"I'm okay, mama. Are you?"

"...Not really, but things are going to be okay." Eira sighed, running a hand through her brown hair, messing up her bun.

"Your husband...he didn't make it out, did he?" Ralof asked, coming into close proximity to Eira.

"I don't think so." Eira choked out, growing teary eyed as she hugged her son close. "I don't know what I'm going to do if he didn't."

"Hey, it'll be alright. Riverwood isn't far from here, and I'm sure my sister wouldn't mind you and Haming staying with us until you can get back on your feet." Ralof offered, squeezing Eira's shoulder. "What about the rest of you guys? Have anywhere to stay? Don't answer Ulfric; I know you have your palace." Ralof asked, looking behind him.

"Ralof, you daft idiot. I grew up with you, you don't even need to ask me that. I'll just stay with Uncle Alvor and my cousin." Hadvar rolled his eyes, swatting Ralof on the shoulder.

"I'd just stay in the Inn for a bit until I can go to Whiterun and get a carriage back home to Windhelm with my uncle, the _very good_ smith," Alfhild said, saying the last bit pointedly at Flynn.

Everyone looked expectantly at Flynn for her answer as to where she'd stay. For the first time that day she balked a little. She didn't have an answer.

"I, uh...I actually don't live anywhere. I have no family here or anything, I actually came to Skyrim a day or two ago, trying to make a new life before I got corralled with you Stormcloak idiots." She answered, looking at the ground sheepishly. "I was probably just going to find a nice Inn and get a job there, but that got a little derailed."

"How'd you get into cahoots with the Stormcloaks anyway?" Hadvar asked, shifting his weight to his other leg.

Oh boy, story time."I arrived in Darkwater crossing a little while before the Stormcloaks got there. I was doing some work in the mines for some extra coin when some Imperial soldiers came by to set up camp. I could tell they weren't really welcome there but everyone was too scared to tell them to fuck off, so I figured I'd do it myself. Instead of responding negatively to my threats, they just laughed at me and said some shit about how a pretty girl like me couldn't do shit, and one of them touched my butt. Me being me, I didn't really like that, so I slapped the shit out of the guy. His friends ganged up on me and knocked me out just as you Stormcloaks arrived. In the confusion, the guy I slapped put me in the cart with you idiots. That's why I smacked the back of his head, had my hands tied behind my back earlier, and why I was gagged too." Flynn recounted, idly rubbing her wrists. Looking up, she saw the horrified expressions on everyone's faces. "...What?"

"So, you came here to build a new life for yourself, and nearly got executed for no reason just for defending yourself?" Ulfric asked slowly, his eyebrows scrunched together.

"Yes."

"...By the Nine, you're serious, aren't you?"

"That's why you were so brutal with the Imperial Commander! She was sending you to your death for no reason!" Alfhild gasped, slapping her hand to her forehead. "Okay, yeah, I would've been pissed too! Maybe not so mad that I'd, y'know, but yeah, I'd make sure she was dead too. I was wondering why you reacted to strongly," Alfhild sighed, slumping against the jagged wall of the cave.

"I have a question. Why did you come here? Daddy said that Cyrodiil was a nice place." Haming asked, leaning his head on Eira's arm, frowning a bit at the thought of his father.

"I've actually been all over Tamriel. From Elsweyr to High Rock. Nowhere has really felt right, but time and time again I've heard of Skyrim and thought it might be. I never actually came here though, thinking I was just crazy. Since I've been everywhere, I realized that the only place left to go was Skyrim. The moment I set foot here almost felt like coming home. It was...surreal, and since then I've decided that this is where I'll stay." Flynn shrugged, rubbing her boot on the gritty ground.

"Why did you ever leave Hammerfell anyway, assuming that's where you come from?" Ulfric asked, crossing his arms.

Flynn stiffened visibly and tugged on a strand of wavy hair, looking away. Dammit, that was the one question she was hoping no one would ask. "Because Hammerfell was not...good."

"What do you mean by 'not good'?" Ulfric continued to prod.

"I mean exactly what I said! It sucked there! That's all there is to it!" Flynn suddenly snapped. "Quit pestering me! I don't need to prove anything to you!"

"Oh, tragic backstory. Hooray. Ulfric, back down, she doesn't want to talk about it." Eira cast Ulfric a disapproving look. "She's right. She doesn't have to prove anything to you, big scary Jarl or not."

Ulfric grumbled under this breath and leaned against the wall next to Alfhild. "Whatever. We still don't know where she's staying."

"Right, that was the point of this. You can stay in Riverwood for awhile with either me or Ralof, if his house is big enough." Hadvar told Flynn, patting her on the shoulder.

"Eira can just stay with Ralof. I'll hang out with you." Flynn shrugged. "Come on, let's not go outside just yet. Let's rest for an hour or two so we can decompress from this shit and make sure that stupid dragon is gone."

"Good call." Alfhild muttered, sliding down the wall, Ulfric sliding down next to her. Hips popping, Hadvar winced as he sat next to Alfhild. Ralof sat to the left of Eira, and Flynn sat to her right, Haming sitting on her lap.

"So...what should we do for the next hour or so?" Ralof asked dubiously, rubbing his knee.

"I dunno, but Haming, you should take a nap. It's been a long day, sweetpea." Eira stroked his hair.

"Mama, I'm not a baby anymore!" Haming loudly complained, turning around and narrowing his eyes at his mother. "I'm 7! I'm a big boy!" He further insisted, crossing his arms.

"Hun, no one is too old for a nap." Flynn huffed a laugh, rubbing his back.

"I know you're not a baby, but you'll always be my baby," Eira sighed, "even when you're a 40 year old butthead who never visits me."

"I'm always gonna visit you!" Haming huffed, curling up on Eira's lap. "Even if I die, my ghost will come back to say hello!"

Eira laughed out loud at that one, flicking Haming on the nose. "You're not allowed to die before me, or I'll ground you."

"You can't ground me if I'm dead!"

"I'd figure it out. Take a nap."

"...Okay," Haming finally relented, his lips pursed into a pout as he stuck his face into the crook of Eira's neck.

Within minutes, he was sounded asleep. Rolling her eyes, Eira ruffled her son's hair. "Ha, 'Big Boy' my left tit."

"Now, what?"

"We can talk about politics," Flynn shrugged.

Everyone let out a collective groan at that.

"Hey, maybe I can get some education on this whole civil war shit that's apparently happening here."

"Alright," Hadvar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, "what don't you know?"

"Everything, pretty much. All I know is that Stormcloaks are a bunch of racist, narrow-minded nords who don't like this whole Aldmeri Dominion bullshit and the Imperials are haughty buttheads who, because they're cowards, support these elves that apparently murdered everyone." Flynn reported, eyeing everyone's offended faces. "What? This is from an outsider perspective."

"If I didn't like you, I'd smack the shit out of you," Alfhild sighed, flicking Flynn on the nose.

"Alfhild, I literally beat a woman to death right in front of you."

Alfhild snorted a laugh. "Yeah. That was horrifying, but in retrospect, what else were you supposed to do? Let her kill you?"

"Ha, yeah. We're getting off topic. So, since I'm so wrong, how about you guys defend your sides of the war, and try to tell me who's right?" Flynn turned to the rest of her group.

Ulfric let the redness in his face die down before he began to speak in a surprisingly calm tone. "We are the Stormcloaks. Some call us an unorganized alliance, perhaps that's what we are, but we would die for our homes. Not only did those Imperial idiots bow down to those elves in a cowardly attempt to save face, but in an act of appeasement, they agreed to ban the worship of Talos, the most important Divine to us Nords! I am a true son of Skyrim because it is my home, I'm not going to just sit back and let it be laid to waste by those tyrannical elves. Can you even begin to imagine not being able to freely worship a god because of some self-righteous elves?! I admit that some of my men are prejudiced, but what reason do they have to not be?! Elves have slaughtered their whole families as if they meant nothing! Elves here in skyrim are usually nothing but trouble. Thalmor are a big example of that. And even if you think my men are racist if the Thalmor succeed in wiping out Talos, do you really believe they'd stop there? Ha! I know first-hand that they don't give a damn about Talos; they just want to break us down and make us easier to defeat, and they're starting with what's most important to us!"

Hadvar seemed to take more offense with every word, and also grew quite red in the face. It was surprising how quickly they'd gotten so riled up. Shrinking a little, Flynn exchanged a look with Eira.

"You want to know why we bowed down?!" Hadvar began to say with a heated, raised voice. "Because our men were being slaughtered every second of that gods damned war! Gods, could you even see how many of us were dying? The elves were too powerful to be taken down, if we'd just kept fighting, everyone would have died! Did you ever even bother to take a look at those piles of bodies every day? Can you even imagine how many faces of the dead are still burned into my mind today?!" Hadvar glared darkly over at Ulfric as he seethed, hands shaking in rage. "What choice did we have?! Not only that, but at least we have structure in our armies! Your men are nothing but racist, slur-screaming rabble! We haven't bowed to the elves, we-!"

"You're contradicting yourself! You just said that you laid your weapons down to the elves, surrendering for the sake of our armies, and yet you say you haven't bowed?! Ha!" Alfhild joined in on the shitshow of a debate, pointing a finger in Hadvar's face. "You're too ashamed to admit that you gave up!"

"All of you, quit it before you wake up Haming!" Eira hissed, rocking back and forth to lull a stirring Haming back to sleep. "Here, let's have a thought-out version of why the Imperials are correct, courtesy of me. Shut up, and listen to someone sensible." Eira cast a pointed look at Hadvar, who was still seething, before she turned back to Flynn. "The Empire lost a rather long and bloody war with the newly formed Aldmeri Dominion, or the Thalmor, after not having a "proper" heir to the throne after the death of Martin Septim in the Oblivion Crisis. Because of a shitload of disagreements, what we call the Great War ensued. The Empire lost, but not totally, enabling them to keep sovereignty. Ulfric Stormcloak here was not happy with the terms of the White-Gold Concordat, which is what stopped the war, so instead of going underground with Talos worship, he chose to challenge the high king for sovereignty of Skyrim, so that he himself could oppose the Thalmor, with Skyrim behind him. However, doing this would require breaking ties with the rest of the Empire, which would leave both the empire and Skyrim crippled and incapable of dealing with the power of the Aldmeri Dominion, who, due to these their terms being broken, would in turn retaliate and destroy both. By getting rid of this Stormcloak business, we can form ties with the elves and all of us can live peacefully, and not worry about losing everything near and dear to you. Doesn't it seem like more than a fair trade? To be dead honest, the Thalmor could've done a lot worse, but all they've really done is prevented the worship of some God. Yes, Talos is important to the Nords, but there's 8 other gods you can freely worship. I suppose in an essence Ulfric's intentions might be noble, but since it's all entirely stupid, I've decided that the Imperials have the right idea, hence why I've joined up with them. Furthermore, Ulfric, no offense, but you also happen to be a rampant racist, or come across as such, and because of that you'd probably turn out to be just as much of a tyrant as an Imperial leader, in different ways."

Eira leaned back against the wall, her point made. Hadvar nodded at her and a self-satisfied smile shone on his face.

"See, this is why every army should be composed on women, they can actually think." Hadvar chuckled. "Speaking of which, what do you think, Flynn? Who do you support?"

"What do I think? I think that all of you are idiots, _in different ways_ ," Flynn mocked Eira's closing words. "Okay, I know enough to form an argument here. Eira, you were more informative, but both of you have holes in your arguments. I'm going to include one of Hadvar's points with Eira's while I rip both Ulfric and Eira to shreds." Flynn clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "I am an outsider. Plain and simple. I am not Imperial, nor am I nord. Therefore, my opinion here is going to be the least biased and less blinded by personal belief, so I'd advise you listen."

"If you're an outsider, how would you know about the strife on both sides? Why should we listen to you if you know nothing of our cause, our reasons?!" Ralof demanded.

"I know of your strife and reasons, both Eira and Ulfric literally just told me all about them. You should listen to me because I could form an opinion without previous bias. Learn to listen." Flynn said shortly. "Ulfric, Eira had a point at the end there; you come across as a racist bigot. If you hold those biased beliefs, how could you rule over the people of Skyrim, seeing that you don't view everyone here as people?"

"You'd be a little bigoted too if Elves captured and tortured you for days on end," Ulfric said darkly, glaring daggers at Flynn.

"Oh," Flynn balked a little. "that uh, changes things a little. But, that supports the idea that you hold bigoted beliefs. If you were to be a proper ruler, you'd need to realize that not every elf is like those ones who tortured you."

"Those weren't just any elves. They were the Thalmor." Ulfric said shortly, his piercing blue-gray eyes never straying from hers.

"Uh, wow. Okay. That's really fucked up. No wonder you're pissed at elves, but still. Not every elf is affiliated with the Thalmor. You can't forget that."

"You can't tell whether or not they are, though," Alfhild chimed in. "And I think that's the problem here."

"Alright, whatever. Let's look at Ulfric. He has a very good point; why would these all-powerful elves just stop you from worshiping a God? Why would it end there? Eira, you cited this as a fair trade; does that not seem almost too fair?"

Eira went wide-eyed at this and sunk a little. "I...you're right."

"Of course I am. Furthermore, I'm not saying that these problems arose solely because the Imperial's bowed to the elves because, let's face it, that's exactly what you did, but I am saying that that's what made this whole Civil War domino into place. It almost seems calculated. However, it makes sense that the Imperials were forced to bow to the elves; if they had not done so, the Thalmor would still have crushed us and imposed the same doctrines. Bowing was better than falling. But, I already know that back then, Men outnumbered Mer at a ratio of 3:1. Somehow, this minority of mer managed to crush all these men. Why? I believe it's because the Mer had better war tactics. Men thought magic was for the weak, but from what I can tell, the use of magic in the elven ranks is what led to the fall of men. Had magic not been so underestimated, and better war tactics thought out, men could've emerged victorious."

"I remember thinking a lot of our tactics were stupid," Ulfric admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Precisely. Now, circling back to Hadvar's point, your side of the war really didn't have a choice in regards to surrendering. I admit that it was a cowardly thing to do, to appease the elves, but what other option did you have? Elves, namely the Thalmor, were and are the biggest threat at the moment, so they _do_ pose a threat, Eira. They wouldn't stop at banning Nordic worship; they'd keep going until men were beaten into submission. But, while I'm finding myself supporting Stormcloaks, they shouldn't destroy the imperials, much less have caused this civil war at all. Even if the Stormcloaks win, the Thalmor would set sights on our shores and, since their treaty was broken, would lay waste to the Empire. The Stormcloaks are right, the elves, Thalmor particularly, pose an enormous threat. This war alone is stupid; you're tearing your own country apart, and once that's done it'll make it so much easier for the…" Flynn began to trail off as a terrible, striking realization hit her. "Mara's ass...This is what the Thalmor wants."

Ulfric leaned forward. "What? What is it?"

"Ulfric you've...been tortured by the elves, right? Your hatred for elves is what drives you."

"I suppose, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"You idiots! It has to do with _everything!_ How can't you see what's happening here?!"

"What?! What's happening?! Explain!" Alfhild demanded.

"Ulfric, you've played right into the Thalmor's hands." Flynn stared up at Ulfric. "They've used you. This is what they wanted all along, can't you see? You have political power, you're a Jarl. They made you hate them, and they took away what helped you; your worship. They banned the worship of Talos. The Thalmor aren't stupid, and they know that banning Talos worship, and having permission to enforce it themselves, would cause a great rift in the population of Skyrim. They knew you would hate this! They wanted you to, because if Skyrim were to destroy itself with a civil war, the Thalmor could easily crush the empire wanted you to start this stupid civil war! They wanted, needed this war so that Skyrim, the biggest threat to the elves, would tear itself apart for them!"

Ulfric went a ghostly shade of white, and everyone else followed.

"By the Gods," Ralof whispered. "By the Gods, you're right. You're _right!_ How did we never see this?"

It was very quiet for a long time. "Arkay's mercy, what have we done to ourselves?" Eira murmured, looking at the ground.

"Okay...I think that's enough about this. Ulfric, if I were you, I'd try to build up your army more and speak with Imperial commanders. Help them see my point, and join up with them. Stop trying to murder them. That's all I'm going to say about this. Let's just...shut up about politics for awhile."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I need...time to think."

An hour came and went, and Flynn's awfully silent group stepped out into the light of a beautiful sunset. Haming was walking by himself, still a little groggy but overall okay. He cried a little bit when the true decimation of Helgen came into view, but overall he was okay. However, Flynn wasn't sure that the smell of ashes and burnt flesh would ever truly leave her. The walk to Riverwood was fairly quiet and peaceful, a stark contrast to the horror of Helgen. Haming looked very sad as he walked along. Flynn's heart broke for him a little. He'd lost his father, and most likely a lot of his friends today. No child should ever have to deal with that. Picking a blue mountain flower, Flynn tucked it in his curly hair and lightly pinched his cheek. He looked up at her and gave her a watery smile. Suddenly remembering something, Flynn took the flower back out of his hair and held it in her palm.

"Haming, watch this," Flynn murmured, calling forth a pink glow into her hand.

The flower straightened itself out in her hands before becoming outlined in pink, before seemingly returning to normal. Smiling, Flynn tucked the flower back into Haming's hair, poking him on the nose affectionately.

"What'd you do to it?" Haming asked, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"It's an simple, yet hard to truly master, alteration spell. That flower is now in a permanent form of stasis. You can never destroy it, it will never wilt, nor will it ever die." Flynn briefly explained. "Some Wood Elves taught me it when I spent some time in Valenwood. It's really hard to learn, but once you do, it's very simple for you to accomplish. Maybe sometime I can teach you?" Flynn offered.

Haming's face broke into a stunning smile. "That sounds like fun."

"Glad you think so," Flynn ruffled his hair, and continued walking.

Eira turned slightly and sent Flynn a very grateful look, almost imperceptibly smiling as she squeezed Haming's shoulder. As the hues of red, orange, and pink in the sky began to give way to a violet twilight, the rushing river led them to Riverwood. The town itself was almost mockingly peaceful, the bitter tang of ash in the air the only thing that evidenced the horror that had only taken place mere hours before. A blonde woman who looked strikingly like Ralof was the first to catch sight of them. She dropped the bucket she was holding, water splashing the pathway and creating a huge puddle. She sprinted towards them and crushed Ralof into a hug, nearly knocking him over (and subsequently Eira, who had been behind him).

"Ralof! By the Gods, I was terrified! I'd heard what happened in Darkwater crossing, and news of Helgen just reached here! I was afraid you'd gotten captured!"

"How did you know about Helgen?" Alfhild asked suspiciously. "Did more people come out of there?"

"There was an Imperial fellow who died right in front of Sven. Sven had been out hunting in those parts, and once he'd heard the news, he came back here to alert me of what had happened. I was going to send him to the Jarl in the morning." The woman, presumably Ralof's sister reported. "Wait, what do you mean by more? Did others make it out of there?"

"Yes," Flynn nodded, "we're the only ones who made it out, apparently. That is, if no one else has come here."

Ralof's sister froze, her face melting into shell-shocked horror as she took in the soot-covered, dirty group of people before her. She looked between each and every person, her eyes lingering on Ulfric Stormcloak himself, and she looked to Ralof. Meeting his eyes, he nodded at her. At once, tears began to trickle down her face.

"Oh Gods...out of everyone there, you all are the only ones left?" She choked out, her voice clouded with disbelief.

"As far as I can tell, yes." Ulfric nodded. "And, if it weren't for this Redguard with us, I don't think any of us would've made it out alive. You have her to thank for your brother coming out of there."

A little embarrassed at Ulfric's words, Flynn squirmed as Ralof's sister stared at her for a very long time. Ralof's sister's breath suddenly hitched and she fell forward, pulling Flynn into her arms and hugging her tightly. And, all at once, Ralof's sister began to sob, just as the townsfolk began to gather around.

"Hadvar?!" A masculine voice sounded from the left by the nearby forge.

"Uncle Alvor!" Hadvar began running towards this 'Alvor', and Alvor began running too. They met at the halfway point between them both, and Hadvar was crushed in Alvor's arms.

"By the Eight, boy! I was so worried! I knew you were stationed in Helgen, I was praying to every god there is that you'd come here!" Alvor sobbed, hugging his nephew tightly. "You nearly killed your Aunt with worry!"

"I know, I know, but I'm here. I'm okay, thanks to Flynn." Hadvar said thickly, pressing his forehead into Alvor's shoulder.

Alvor looked up and locked eyes with Flynn, who was beginning to feel very uncomfortable with all the attention she was receiving. She awkwardly rubbed Ralof's sister's back and nodded at Alvor, answering the question that was sure to be on his mind. Alvor's eyes welled up with tears, and just as Ralof's sister had done, he stumbled over and hugged Flynn tightly. Looking back at her group, she pleaded for help with her eyes, only to see they were on the verge of tears too. Sighing, Flynn tried to relax and patted both Alvor and Ralof's sister's back as the town folk looked on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Good god, this took a lot of editing and I'm still pretty sure this has little mistakes here and there. Special thank-you to the two guests who left a review. Seriously, you have no idea how much that meant. I posted this story on AO3 a while back and after 2 months, there wasn't anything so I decided to post it here.**

 **Farkas finna get his ass whooped at the end of the chapter. The initial idea is accredited to Opalbee; go read her story, "His Brother's Keeper". I know it's over 400,000 words, but holy shit it is so well written I was perfectly content to sit and read all of it. If Opalbee is reading this, huge thank-you to you as well for the kind words a while back. I was just so moved I had no idea what to say, so I may have sounded like a moron. Keep being amazing, ma'am. Best of luck to you on your story.**

After Alvor and Gerdur (finally, she knew Ralof's sister's name...) calmed down, she lead everyone to the Inn to tell about what had happened. She spared no details. She recounted how and why she'd nearly been executed, the events that lead up to finding Hadvar and everyone else, the run to the keep, the death of the commander, how she'd escaped, and briefly explained the debate she'd had with everyone about politics. By the end of her tale, everyone had cried at some point, and Gerdur had fallen back into tears, this time along with her husband Hod, and Alvor's wife, Sigrid. Flynn had been told by basically everyone that she was welcome to stay with them and given numerous expressions of gratitude in the forms of food, money, items, and just plain old words.

"You are the reason all of these people are still alive. Don't feel so embarrassed by our gratitude; without you, no one would have made it out of Helgen." Hod whispered to her as the night pressed on and people began to go home. "As I'm sure you've heard, you are welcome in my home. Don't worry about Eira or Haming, they're in good hands. I'm sure Haming will get along fine with my son, and Alvor's daughter, and we'll collectively help Eira get back on her feet. Who knows; maybe we'll all pitch in to build her a house here."

"Thank you, Hod." Flynn nodded, feeling relief in the fact that everyone would be taken care of.

"No, thank _you._ Whether you acknowledge it or not, you've done a mighty deed today. We'll always be grateful to you." Hod smiled, his eyes glittering with affection.

Flynn nodded. "Well, I suppose I ought to escort the amazing High King to Whiterun so he can get back to Windhelm."

"Why?" Hod frowned. "You ought to get some rest, and I'm sure Ulfric can get to Whiterun himself in the morning."

Flynn shook her head. "I really shouldn't stay. I...well, there really isn't a reason, but I suppose I should find a job and a home and all that." She shrugged.

"Hun, you can always stay with us."

"You've already got Eira staying over."

"Doesn't mean you can't too. But, what do you mean by find and job and home?"

"I mean exactly what I said. I have neither."

Hod frowned at this, and something seemed to click. "How long have you been in Skyrim?"

"Only about...1, maybe 2 days? I guess it'd have to be 3 now, I dunno. Somewhere around that. I don't think I mentioned that in my tale earlier."

"I was wondering why you were in Darkwater crossing. Still, you're welcome to work at the mill here, and we can build you a house."

"The mill is run well enough, I don't want to intrude."

"You aren't intruding!"

"I feel as though I am. Besides, I am not the most...pleasant of company. You'd tire of me quickly."

"Nonsense! Flynn, come on."

"Hod, please."

Hod sighed, knowing she wasn't going to back down. "Very well. If you ever need a place to stay, you know where to go. Still, won't you stay the night?"

"...No." Flynn awkwardly responded, feeling a little uncomfortable at all the insistence.

"Alright. I'll pack a bag for you, and send you on your way." Hod sighed, looking at her sadly with pursed lips.

"No need."

"By the Nine, woman! Let me take care of you!" Hod exasperatedly snapped, crossing his arms.

Wordlessly, Flynn opened her bag and shoved her entire arm inside.

"...Oh."

After attracting Ulfric's attention and (despite Gerdur's insistence otherwise) informing Gerdur that there'd be no need to send Sven in the morning to the Jarl because "he damn well better rouse himself out of his cushy bed for this", Ulfric and Flynn departed into the night.

"Shouldn't we say goodbye to everyone? Eira, Haming, Alfhild, Ralof, and Hadvar, that is." Ulfric asked as they crossed the cobblestone bridge.

"No, they'll insist on us staying. I've heard enough of that."

"Why are you so insistent on us leaving?"

"I'm not insistent on us leaving, persay. I just want to leave because all this praise makes me feel awkward. I'm nobody special."

"I'd think otherwise." Ulfric muttered under his breath, though Flynn still picked up on it.

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why would you think otherwise?"

"Oh, I didn't think you'd heard that."

"I see no reason why you'd say it, then." Flynn replied shortly.

Ulfric began to speak haltingly, as if he didn't quite know what to say. "I...I don't quite know what it is about you-"

"-If you don't know it's probably nothing." Flynn shrugged.

"...By the Nine, would you let me finish? As I was saying, I don't know what it is about you, sure, but there's something there that makes you stand out. I can't put my finger on it now, perhaps I never will, but you're like an itch I can't scratch. The thought of you lingers. It's almost as if...you're destined for something momentous."

Flynn huffed a laugh, which quickly turned into a full-blown one. "Me?! Destined for greatness?! Ha! As if! Ulfric, if you truly believe that, you're both naive and you have no idea who I am."

"Maybe I'm naive, but if I don't know you, who are you?" Ulfric demanded hotly.

Flynn wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of her eye. "That's just it, though. I'm nobody at all. Absolutely no one."

Ulfric stared at her for a long, long time without saying a word. "Everyone is someone." He suddenly said.

Flynn didn't really know how to respond to that. What was a witty response to something like that?

"...Except elves." Flynn prodded Ulfric, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. "Or so you'd apparently say."

Ulfric went quiet for a long time, and it wasn't until Pelagia farm came into view that he spoke once more. "I don't...think I hate elves that much anymore."

"You can't get rid of prejudiced ideas that quickly."

"I know. It's going to be a little difficult, considering what elves have done to me, but...I'm going to try. That conversation we had today was...really eye-opening. I don't think you realize just how much that deeply disturbed me."

Flynn felt her face soften. "I'm glad you're so mature about this. Many a man would splutter to try to defend themselves, too afraid to admit they were in the wrong. I can...admire that you are not like that."

"Eh, I can be." Ulfric sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"And by admitting that, you show that you have the capacity to not be."

Ulfric looked up at her at that, and stared for a long time. "There it is again." He said.

"What?"

"That feeling."

"Get to the point, idiot. What feeling?"

Ulfric chuckled, shaking his head. "The feeling that you're someone special."

Flynn rolled her eyes and stared ahead. "...Shut up."

After sending Ulfric on his way, Flynn made her way up to the Whiterun gate.

"Halt!" One of the guards yelled. "You are not a citizen here! The city's closed until this talk of dragons dies down."

Flynn narrowed her eyes at the guard exasperatedly. "You are a whole head shorter than me. What's stopping me from picking you up and throwing you out of the way?"

It wasn't visible, but Flynn could tell the guard was narrowing his eyes at her. "I have a weapon."

Her voice pure ice, Flynn pulled her sword out of its sheath on her hip. "I do too. I have news to deliver to the Jarl, specifically about this dragon. Get out of my way."

"How dare you disrespect me, a guard of this city!? Much less some minority like you?!"

"Gjukar, wait. Step down. She knows of the dragon, let her in." The female guard off to the side grabbed her fellow guard's shoulder, pulling him away from Flynn. "Regardless of whether or not she's being rude, all information goes directly to the Jarl as soon as possible."

The male guard, "Gjukar", was having none of this.

"No! No one can just get away with disrespecting city guard, much less me!" Gjukar insisted.

Flynn cast Gjukar a dead look and without a word, picked him up as if he were a ragdoll and placed him gently off to the side before opening the gate to the city herself. Closing the gate on Gjukar before he could sputter anymore, Flynn exchanged a look with a guard standing place just inside before she strolled down the cobblestone road, her cloak swishing gently behind her. Using a letter strip she'd picked up from Alvor's forge, she curled her long hair into a bun as she walked, figuring she ought to look somewhat presentable for the Jarl. Some of the black strands came loose in her fingers and she listlessly let them flutter to the ground. More guards roamed around the city and eyed her suspiciously as she walked, though the suspicion felt a little watered down, since they all had to tilt their heads up to look at her properly. In many places, such as Valenwood and Summerset Isles, everyone had been as tall as her or just a little shorter. However, everyone here was at least a whole head shorter than her. She found it amusing that the supposedly tough, terrifying Nords looked, in comparison to her, like small, angry, fair-skinned children. She felt like a giant among men. Still, all of these suspicious looks were starting to grind on her patience. She was just walking through the city; not stealing everything in sight.

As she walked up to Dragonsreach, some guards whispered among themselves about her, or had to gall to openly say something rude. By the time she'd reached the large doors of Dragonsreach, she found that she had lost a lot of the patience she'd been clinging to that day. Slamming the doors to the palace open with a terribly loud bang (and startling some old woman terribly), she swept into the hall.

"My lord. Please. You have to listen. I only counsel caution. We cannot afford to act rashly in times like these. If the news from Helgen is true... well, there's no telling what it means." A smooth yet anxious voice sounded from across the dining hall.

"What would you have me do, then? Nothing?" The Jarl (Balgruuf, was it?) demanded curtly.

At least, she was pretty sure it was the Jarl, since he was dressed the most finely. Flynn had to say though, that beard with no sleeves? The look wasn't good for him.

"My lord. Please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act. I just..." The mousy-faced man continued sheepishly before trailing off at the sight of an alarmingly tall Redguard staring down at him.

"Who's this, then?" Balgruuf inquired, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Quit narrowing your eyes, they'll get stuck like that and you'll permanently look like an idiot." Flynn snapped at the Jarl's somewhat hostile expression, feeling her patience drain even more by the second.

The dark elf woman at the Jarl's left drew her weapon and pointed it menacingly at Flynn. Batting it away from her, Flynn shot a nasty glare. It'd been a very long day; she didn't need some tiny little elf brandishing a sword in her face. She'd had more than enough of that today.

"What is it with you Skyrim folk and weapons?!" Flynn looked down at the elf with a very displeased expression, feeling her lips curl into a frown.

Ignoring her hotly-worded question, the elf demanded, "Why have you come here, much less at this hour?" The dark elf demanded.

"Hmmm, well I figured that _maybe_ you'd like someone to inform you that a _dragon_ destroyed Helgen, not to mention that Riverwood is in the most immediate danger since it's hardly protected and in the direct crossfire. And before you ask, no, there's no salvaging Helgen. It's been absolutely decimated." Flynn told the dark elf in a blindingly sarcastic tone.

The Jarl seemed interested in this as he visibly perked up. "Stand down, Irileth. It's alright. If she knows of Helgen, I want to hear what she has to say. Step towards me."

Resisting the urge to dramatically stomp towards him, Flynn approached the Jarl, glaring at this 'Irileth' before she begrudgingly put away her weapon. "So, what's this about Riverwood being in danger?" The Jarl asked, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

Flynn cast the Jarl a withering look. "Unless those alarmingly saggy things on either side of your head aren't what I think they are, I'm pretty sure you have ears. A dragon attacked Helgen, it subsequently laid waste to Helgen, and since Riverwood has no walls and is the closest to Helgen, it's in the most immediate danger. I'd advise sending some extra men over there before both Alvor and Gerdur start laying eggs."

The Jarl looked rather insulted by her comment on his ears, but seemed to shrug it off in favor of adopting a suspicious expression. "And you're sure Helgen was destroyed by a dragon? This wasn't some Stormcloak raid gone wrong?"

'Oh, are you fucking kidding?' Flynn felt herself stiffen, and just like that, the very last bit of her patience ebbed away.

Feeling a multitude of choice words boiling in her throat, Flynn began to scream. "Are you fucking _THICK!? YES,_ IT WAS A GODS DAMNED DRAGON! LET ME TELL YOU, I HAD A _FANTASTIC_ VIEW OF THIS DRAGON WHILE IMPERIALS TRIED TO CHOP OFF MY HEAD, NOT TO MENTION WHEN IT WAS _KILLING EVERYONE!"_ She shrieked, feeling her throat quickly go raw. "MARA'S ASS! HOW IN THE NAME OF FUCK WOULD I MISTAKE A DRAGON, A _DRAGON_ FOR A RAID!?"

The Jarl looked rather frazzled by all of her screaming and shrunk a little. Irileth slowly began to unsheathe her weapon and Flynn, in a blind rage, snatched it out of the dark elf's hand and sent it hurtling across the room, listening in satisfaction as it lodged itself in a nearby wooden pillar.

 _"STOP FUCKING PULLING YOUR WEAPON ON ME!"_ She angrily thrust a finger into Irileth's stunned face, before whipping around to glare at a mage who was standing a safe distance away. "AND YOU! STOP STARING AT ME, I'M NOT CRAZY! ANYONE WOULD SNAP LIKE THIS IF THEY WERE ONE OUT OF _SEVEN_ PEOPLE TO GET OUT OF HELGEN ALIVE AND HAVE SOME _FOOL_ ASK IF YOU'D MISTAKEN THIS DRAGON FOR A _STORMCLOAK RAID!"_ Flynn finished her hysterical rant and huffed for breath, backing up and slumping against the table behind her.

"I'm...afraid I misunderstood. I'd thought you'd gone to scope out Helgen after the chaos was over." The Jarl began in a nervous voice, eyeing Flynn warily. "...You said that you are one out of the seven people who made it out?"

Suddenly feeling very drained, Flynn didn't bother to straighten herself as she said, "Yes. And if it weren't for me, those other 6 people would be dead."

The Jarl looked both intrigued and horrified. "How so?"

"I was mistaken for a Stormcloak in Darkwater Crossing, and was subsequently nearly sent to my death despite my innocence. The dragon appeared just as I was about to be executed. In the confusion, one of the rebels, Ralof, ended up free of his binds and helped me too. I led him into a tower and amassed a short group composed of me, him, Ulfric Stormcloak, and a woman named Alfhild. I led them out of the tower we were holed up in and encountered a man named Hadvar, a woman named Eira, and a child named Haming. There were initially more people with me, but out of everyone, the people I named are the only ones who survived with me. Since I wasn't affiliated with any side of the war, nor was I was 7 year old child, I took leadership and got everyone to cooperate. I'm the one who led them all to safety. All the survivors are in Riverwood at the moment, except for Ulfric, who I just sent back to Windhelm. A Jarl should be there for his Hold." Flynn recounted. "No one else has emerged from Helgen alive, so it's safe to assume that we're the only ones who made it out. How many people lived in Helgen before the attack?"

"It was one of our biggest holds. Forty-eight people, I believe." The Jarl's steward recounted. "You're sure your group's the only people who made it out?"

"I'm sure. No one else has come to Riverwood, save for a soldier who alerted one of Riverwood's inhabitants of what had happened before dying of his injuries, or so I've been told."

The Jarl looked ghostly pale. "By the Eight. This is worse than I've thought."

"No shit, genius." Flynn spat. "So, do excuse me for screaming at you when you asked if it might've been a gods damned raid."

"What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?" Balgruuf turned to his steward.

"My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains..." Irileth began to say before being cut off by Proventus.

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him." Proventus argued.

Flynn was really starting to not like this Proventus guy.

"Enough! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl."

"We should not-!" Proventus weakly tried to argue, but Balgruuf stopped him.

"I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!"

At this, Proventus seemed to give up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties."

"That would be best." Balgruuf said shortly, before returning his attention back to Flynn. "Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. I'll have Eorlund provide you with some nice armor in the morning as a thank you." The Jarl paused for a moment, before continuing. "There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. In the morning, you and I can talk to my court mage, Farengar. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons. In the meantime, I'll have one of my maids draw you a bath, prepare a bed, and find some nicer clothing for you. Some food, if you are hungry. You've more than earned all of that."

"Thanks."

"However, you'd do well not to comment on my ears again." The Jarl lightly joked before rising from his seat. "Follow me."

"Fine, I'll settle for ripping your fashion sense into shreds. That beard? No sleeves? Neither of those are working for you."

The Jarl cast her a withering glance and shook his crowned head.

That evening, a warm bath and bed never felt so good in her life.

* * *

Flynn woke up early that following morning in a cold sweat with a scream stuck in her throat. She'd had a dream about Helgen, which was no surprise, but it had ended with her actually dying. Wiping the sweat off her face, she shakily sat up and chugged the pitcher of water one of the kindly maids had left behind for her. Sighing and flopping back down onto the bed, she stared at the ceiling for what felt like half an hour before she willed herself to leave the safety of her bed. She made herself useful and fixed the bed until it looked like it had before she slept in it, and quickly stripped out of her nightclothes the Jarl had provided for her. Taking care to fold her nightclothes into a neat pile for the maids, she changed into her own clothing that the maids had washed and sewed back into their former glory, and after donning her cloak, she quietly went down the stairs into the main hall. Gods, those maids were nice; she'd give them some money as a "thank you". People really seemed to like money. Upon seeing her coming downstairs, one of the maids, Anette, immediately began to fret.

"Oh, you poor dear! Why are you up so early? You ought to still be in bed after a day like that!" Anette gently grabbed her shoulder and tried to guide her back upstairs.

Grasping Anette's wrinkled hand, Flynn held it to the side and shook her head. "I'm alright, I think I've slept enough. Do you and the rest of you guys need help in the kitchens? I can cook pretty well."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to do that. Come, sit down and I'll warm some mead for you, unless you'd prefer tea?" Jytte crooned, tugging Flynn towards the large dining table.

"Tea would be preferred, but please, I insist. You all have been kind; the least I can do is help you as well."

Jytte went to protest, but Gerda cut her off. "Quit it. If she wants to help, let her. Good to see that someone is actually grateful for everything we do around here!" Gerda snapped, brushing flour off her hands with a damp rag.

"Gerda, please. She had such a horrible day yesterday, she ought to still be in bed." Fianna argued, sending Flynn a stern, pointed look as she eyed Flynn's somewhat haggard expression.

"I'm glad you're all concerned, but I should make myself useful. Gerda, can you show me how to make boiled creme tarts? I noticed that Balgruuf's little brat-I mean, child, seems to like them." Flynn asked, remembering seeing Dagny eating one before making a rather rude remark.

All of the servants shared a private laugh at Flynn's slip-up, silently agreeing that Balgruuf's children were little shits.

"If you'd really want to help us in the kitchens, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, but when you're done, you'd better sit down and eat something!" Fianna said sharply, looking Flynn up and down. "You look like you could use something in your belly. Anette, prepare her some tea while me and Gerda show her how to make boiled creme tarts."

Until the first fingers of dawn began to weave their way into the sky, Flynn helped Anette, Gerda, Fianna, and Jytte prepare breakfast. Gerda complained about her sloppiness frequently, but Jytte made sure to let Flynn know that she was doing perfectly, and Gerda was only pissed off because Flynn was doing it better than she could. Balancing two plates in either hand, Flynn set down the dishes just in time for the Jarl to sleepily shuffle downstairs. The Jarl looked confused to see her already awake and at work, and shook his head before turning his attention to his maids.

"You lot know she's our special guest. Why is she acting as a servant?" He asked, an underlying dangerous note in his tone that Flynn immediately picked up on.

Setting a pitcher of wine in front of the Jarl, she unceremoniously smacked him upside the head, making Anette gasp. "It's a little early to get your panties in a twist. Shut up. I woke up early, and I insisted on helping, since, y'know, I'm not an ungrateful little shit. Leave your maids alone, and eat your breakfast." She snapped, not happy that he was fixing to be rude to his servants after they'd been so nice to her.

The Jarl stared up at her with a bewildered expression, as if he was entirely shocked that someone had the gall to be so rude to him. Flynn rolled her eyes and strolled down the table and sat down. Fianna smiled at her in silent satisfaction as she began to fix a plate for Flynn. Jytte looked between Flynn and the Jarl and quickly excused herself to the kitchen, where Flynn could faintly hear her laughing. Locking eyes with the still-stunned Jarl, Flynn tilted her head towards the food she and the maids had worked so hard to make as telling him to wipe the look off his face and start eating. Narrowing his eyes a little, the Jarl looked away and stuffed a sweet roll into his mouth. Breakfast was mainly a silent affair, and she'd long since finished eating before the Jarl's children began sleepily stumbling into the hall. She already knew who Dagny was, but wasn't sure which ones Nelkir and Frothar were. She guessed it was safe to assume that Frothar was the taller boy. Nelkir sleepily looked up at her and seemed surprised to see her there. Suddenly, what could only be described as a conceited smirk glimmered on Nelkir's tiny mouth and he sneered,

"Oh, look. Another adventurer, here to lick my father's boots. Good job."

It was very difficult to swallow the profound urge to beat Balgruuf's child with her cup. Breakfast came and went, and the Jarl escorted her to Eorlund Gray-Mane, who Flynn was actually pretty excited to meet. Tales of his beautiful steel had reached as far as Valenwood. As they walked down the stone steps towards what the Jarl called Jorrvaskr, he scolded her briefly.

"I've been patient with you, as you faced many terrors just yesterday, but why do you insist on humiliating me in front of my court?" He asked as the approached what looked like a gigantic, dying tree.

"I'm not known for being polite." Flynn responded simply. "I'm just...selectively nice. I am generally courteous to those I like, and you are not one of those people."

The Jarl seemed offended by this and asked, "And why would that be?"

"I hate to break this to you, but you aren't exactly the most polite either, and I don't appreciate how rude you are to your servants. In different ways, they work just as hard as you. And don't get me started on your conceited brats of children. I don't condone beating your children, not in the slightest, but damn...it was really hard not to slap your child with my cup this morning. I'm not a parent, so I don't really have any place to say anything, but let me tell you; since most children I meet aren't dicks, I'd say your parenting needs some refinement."

One of the guards they passed found it very difficult to not laugh out loud at her words. The Jarl went very red in the face and began to splutter as he opened and closed his mouth as if he were a fish. Finally, he seemed to deflate and looked almost shameful. Huh, she wasn't expecting that.

"You really know how to hit someone where it hurts, don't you?" The Jarl sighed deeply, a haggard expression overcoming his normally prideful one. "I don't appreciate your words to me, but you have a point. I am by no means a perfect man, much less a father. I admit that much. I can either be a Jarl, or corral my children; I cannot possibly do both."

Seeing the Jarl's suddenly exhausted expression, Flynn felt a little bad for ripping into him, but then again, his kids were dicks, so she didn't feel that bad. Finally, the Jarl and Flynn made it past Jorrvaskr, and climbed the steps to the Skyforge. Despite herself, Flynn began to tremor a little in excitement, feeling her childish sense of wonder come back to slap her in the face with vigor. She was at the gods damned Skyforge! Oh, if only her asshole of a cousin could see her now. 'Fuck you, Nazir!' Flynn thought to herself. 'Look at me, I'm meeting Eorlund Gray-Mane himself! Oh, if I hadn't estranged myself from our family, you could bet your ass I'd be rubbing this in your face right now!'. There was a bear of a man tending to the Skyforge as they reached the top of the steps, clad in some skimpy, entirely nonfunctional but sexy leather armor that showed off his gorgeous muscles. His flowing, white hair tumbled down his back in a glamorous pony tail and she watched in pure awe as he stretched to his full height. His toned abs rippled as he straightened, and she felt like she'd been lit on fire the second he turned his rugged, chiseled face towards her.

Holy shit he was gorgeous...and like, thirty years older than her but still gorgeous!

Eorlund raised his eyebrows at the sight of the Jarl himself and some Redguard lady who was staring at him with a...probably very stupid expression. Correcting her face, Flynn righted her posture and stood straight.

"Eorlund, I'm sure you got my note?" The Jarl called, striding towards the master smith.

"I'm afraid not, actually." Eorlund admitted, scratching his nose. "That must've been your note my wife gave me this morning before tending to her stall; my son spilled tea over it."

"I see. It's of no matter; my explanation for my presence here is simple."

"And that explanation would be?"

"This woman here," The Jarl gestured towards Flynn, "is one of the sole survivors of Helgen. It's because of her that 6 more people made it out of there alive. She sought me out on her own accord, and for that, I'd like you to fit her with some of your finest armor." The Jarl briefly explained.

"By the Gods, the news from Helgen was true?"

"I'm afraid so. She made a point of expressing this to me...rather loudly."

Eorlund looked up at Flynn, eyeing her up and down. "So, this string-bean managed to fend off a dragon, and lead six people out of Helgen?"

Flynn narrowed her eyes and looked down at Eorlund in slight defense. "Hey, I might look as thin as a tree branch, but Ulfric Stormcloak himself can attest that I literally beat a woman to death with my hands alone."

Eorlund began to laugh out loud, but soon tapered off as he caught sight of her dead serious expression. "Ysgramor's beard...you aren't serious, are you?" He asked cautiously.

Flynn's expression didn't change as she affirmed with, "She disarmed me. I was wearing gauntlets. What choice did I have?"

Eorlund had the decency to look rather embarrassed, while the Jarl looked pretty horrified. Rubbing the back of his neck, Eorlund said, "Well, so long as you don't pummel me until I die, let's fit you into some nice armor. I'm thinking...well, since you could literally beat someone to death, you're probably pretty strong. How does Steel Plate sound?"

"Sounds perfect. Get her measurements, and while you make her armor, she and I will talk to my court mage. You'll be paid well for this." The Jarl nodded at Flynn. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be paying a visit to Kodlak. Flynn, try not to insult him as you've done to me."

"No promises, saggy ears." Flynn rolled her eyes, before returning her attention to Eorlund. "So uh...should I just stand here like an idiot while you measure me, or do I need to do something?"

Eorlund chuckled at her, and his chuckling quickly turned in full-blown laughter.

"What?" She asked self-consciously, afraid she'd said something wrong.

"Did you call the Jarl himself 'saggy ears'?"

"Maybe." Flynn said shortly, shuffling a little. "I don't like him much. His kids are dicks, too."

Eorlund laughed harder and clapped her on the shoulder. "Ay, that they are. You're right. And to be honest, I'm not fond of him either. I think he's cowardly. Still, saggy ears? I like you already, lass." The big grin on Eorlund's face helped Flynn relax, even though she was still kind of focused on not outwardly showing that she was screaming on the inside.

EORLUND! GRAY! MANE! WAS! TOUCHING! HER!

Shaking his head, Eorlund dug a small, crudely made measuring strip out of a nice chest and took her measurements, instructing her to move her body in one way or another every now and then. When it was all said in done, he sent her back up to Dragonsreach with a new sword (Dwarven, he called it) and a promise of her armor being ready by the afternoon. Instead of going back up to Dragonsreach, Flynn opted to wander around Whiterun and looked around. She found herself all of a sudden brawling with two people in the Inn (Uthgerd and Mikael, both for separate reasons), buying a Mammoth Tusk from Belethor (and yelling at him for trying to stiff her on some things she was selling, knowing he was giving her less than they were worth), subsequently giving the Mammoth Tusk to an overjoyed Ysolda, returning to Carlotta with news of her victory against Mikael, yelling at Heimskr to shut the fuck up (shortly followed by Nazeem), helping Adrianne in her forge, investing in Adrianne's shop, and spending some time with Arcadia, who taught her how to make some good stamina, healing, and magic replenishing potions. By the time she returned to Eorlund's forge, she had a lot more money on her, 5 new friends (she really liked Carlotta and Ysolda), and a lot of new knowledge in regards to smithing and alchemy.

Eorlund laughed when she told him about everything she'd done today, especially when she told him about how she'd beaten the crap out of Mikael and yelled at Belethor. "You really are something else, aren't you, lass?"

"Ulfric told me that before I sent him back to Windhelm. What is it about me that makes people say that?"

"I'm not sure," Eorlund frowned. "I just get a feeling from you."

Flynn groaned loudly. "That's what Ulfric said too!"

Eorlund laughed heartily at that, and squeezed her shoulder. "Maybe you'll figure it out someday. For now, put on that armor and we'll see if I need to make any adjustments."

After trying on the armor and finding that it fit perfectly (even though it was hella heavy), Eorlund sent her back to Dragonsreach, where she walked directly to the court mage.

"The Jarl said you had a project you needed help with." She called out to Farengar, who jumped when she suddenly spoke.

"Hmm? What? Project? You think you could help me? I really don't think so." Farengar eyed her up and down.

Quirking a brow at his dubious and somewhat haughty expression, she said dully, "Look out - you're about to step in your own Shock Rune."

"What? I never even cast... ah, I see. You have some knowledge of the Higher Art. Please forgive my earlier rudeness. I am so often interrupted by visitors wandering in, I can occasionally become quite savage. Now... what did you say you wanted?" Farengar asked, seemingly bashful about his previous rudeness.

"The Jarl said you had a project you needed help with." Flynn reiterated, shifting her weight to one leg.

"Ah, indeed? The Jarl... Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Here he is now."

Flynn turned to see the Jarl stride into the room, stepping away from a ball of Magelight. "I saw you come in. I trust that armor fits you well?"

"Yes," Flynn nodded in assent. "that's not what I'm here to talk about."

"Ah, yes. Farengar, behave yourself. This is the woman I was telling you about last night. She was there when that dragon attacked Helgen, and she's willing to help you with your...project." The Jarl inclined his head towards Flynn.

Farengar turned to face her fully, definitely intrigued. "So, you're the one who faced the dragon. The Jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

Flynn resisted the urge to sigh loudly. "Fantastic. So, what does this have to do with dragons?"

"Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker - perhaps even a scholar? You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But I began to search for information about dragons - where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?" Farengar began to ramble, but Flynn cut him off.

"Get on with it. What do you need me to do?"

"To the point. I like that. Well, I began to search for information about dragons - where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from? I ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a "Dragonstone," said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself. And do hurry; the Jarl is not known to be a patient man."

"I'm not patient either. I'll be back whenever, assuming this doesn't kill me."

"Speaking of which, I have some spare spell tomes that you might like, assuming you have knowledge of some magic. I know you know a little about Destruction, judging by your earlier comment. Would you like to see them?"

"...How did you get spell tomes out of me bitching about whether or not this could kill me?"

"Well, these spells can keep you from not dying."

"Good enough for me. Let's see them."

Pulling out a wooden crate from beneath his desk, Farengar blew a copious amount of dust from the tomes. Flynn gingerly picked one of the tomes up. "Flame cloak", it read.

"Oh, so this can teach me how to set myself on fire properly. Awesome." Flynn drawled sarcastically. "Hm, if I do this wrong, do you think this could kill me?"

Farengar nodded in assent.

Staring him dead in the eyes, Flynn picked up the book crate and began to walk backwards. "...I'll take all of these."

Farengar's laughter followed behind her as she walked outside of his space. Dumping the spell tomes in her bag, she retrieved her items from her room and said goodbye to Jytte, Anette, Fianna, and Gerda, making sure to give them 150 septims each. They were very flustered about the money they received and insisted she take it back, but Flynn simply waved them off. She helped them clean a little before she departed from Dragonsreach, closing the large doors behind her. Waving to Eorlund, who smiled as he caught sight of her, she made her way out of the city and began the long trek to Bleak Falls Barrow. The sweet scent of dried tundra grass and mountain flowers floated gently in the air as she crunched through the crumbly bushes and dried grass. The happy gurgling of the stream accompanied her walk back towards Riverwood as mudcrabs chittered a safe distance away. The breeze felt nice against her face and she tugged her cloak around her armor more, feeling safe within it. As she trekked along, she caught sight of an alarmingly large figure lumbering towards Pelagia farm. Frowning, she turned a little more in that direction to see that it was a giant. What the fuck was a giant doing at Pelagia farm? Squinting, she saw three silhouettes, two feminine and one masculine, darting towards the lumbering creature. She watched in shock as one of the women leapt forward and slashed at the giant's calves.

Before she even realized she was moving her feet, Flynn began to jog as fast as she could towards the people to help them in case they couldn't take care of the creature themselves. She was wearing armor; she'd probably be fine. She pulled her Elven and Dwarven swords out of her bag and held them tightly in both hands, coming upon the farm just as the giant would've gotten a lucky blow on the man. The man whirled around just in time to see Flynn cross her blade in an X below the lumbering giant's club. The force of the giant's swing made her knees buckle and her feet slide in the dirt. Somehow, she managed to not fall on her ass. 'Oh, there goes my shoulder,' Flynn thought, feeling her left shoulder dislocate. Her footwork on point (as usual), she let her left leg collapsed and swept to the side, bringing her Elven sword down in a graceful arc against the giant's leg. The beast let out an ungodly roar and swiped at her. She dodged just in time to feel a blast of air fly over her head, making some black strands flutter. Twirling, she slashed at the giant's leg once more, bringing it to it's knees. Finally lowered enough for her to reach, Flynn thrust her blade upwards through the giant's nostril, killing it instantly. It's body trembled and swayed before it crashed to the earth with an unceremonious dull thump.

"That was...fucking amazing." The man said breathlessly, staring at Flynn with a mixture of fear and awe on his face.

"I think you mean incredibly reckless." The stern voice of a woman sounded from Flynn's left, and she turned to see a red-headed woman narrowing her eyes at her. "Impressive, but reckless. Not just anyone could withstand the blow of a giant's club. You could've been crushed. Still, with strength like that, I'm sure you could make a fine addition to the Companions."

"The Companions?" Flynn repeated, quirking a brow. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your...club."

The woman seemed a little miffed at the use of the word 'club', but overall looked surprised. "Huh. That's a first. An outsider, are you?"

"Yes. I've only been in Skyrim for about 4 days." Flynn nodded, popping her left shoulder back into place without making a face.

The man whistled as she did so. The other woman winced.

"Huh. Well, welcome to the land. I'm sure that giant was a wonderful welcoming gift." The woman joked.

"No, I think the dragon that tried to murder me in Helgen was much better." Flynn joked in response, watching in slight glee as a shocked look appeared on the woman's face.

"Ysgramor's beard, you're that woman Eorlund was telling me about! You're a Redguard; I should've guessed!" Aela seemed pleasantly shocked, a grin stretching across her face. "I didn't believe him when he said you'd supposedly beat someone to death with your hands alone, but after that...well. It's nice to meet you. My name is Aela, and you are?"

Opting to ignore Aela's question about her name, Flynn said, "I'm glad that the first thing people are hearing about me is how I beat a woman to death. Good first impression."

Aela barked a laugh at that, and gestured back to your friends. "The girl is Ria, a newbie, and that blockhead who's ass you saved is Farkas."

"She didn't save my ass, Aela." The man complained, blushing slightly.

"That giant's club would've sent you careening in the air all the way through Balgruuf's ceiling! Show some gratitude!" Ria scolded her taller friend, thumping him on the back.

Farkas rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and muttered, "Sorry, little sister. Thank you for not letting that giant send me crashing into the Jarl's lunch, miss."

"No problem. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should be on my way."

"Wait, are you going to join the Companion's?" Ria asked.

Flynn shook her head. "I've had enough drama in my life lately. Asshole dragons have kind of weaned me from glorious battles for awhile. Perhaps another time. Goodbye."

"Fair enough. See you around." Aela said, and at that, Flynn turned and continued her walk to Bleak Falls Barrow.

* * *

Farengar was going to fucking get it.

It had been 6 days since Helgen, and Flynn was more than a little pissed off. She'd become even more of a celebrity in Riverwood due to her miraculously finding Lucan's golden claw in Bleak Falls Barrow which had been, oh, INFESTED WITH DRAUGR AND BANDITS! She also had her mind raped a little by some weird words on some stone wall, but since nothing had really happened, she wasn't going to dwell on it. Farengar was very, very lucky that the Dragonstone was actually in Bleak Falls Barrow. Regardless, it was still going to get shoved up Farengar's ass the second she returned to Dragonsreach. After returning to Riverwood after spending three gods damned days systematically clearing out the Barrow, she'd partied with Riverwood's citizens all night (after she'd taken a bath, of course) and hung out with Ralof, Hadvar, Alfhild, and Eira. Now, she was returning to Whiterun to go yell some choice words at Farengar...very late at night.

Second thought, both as an act of mercy to Farengar's ears and a huge "FUCK YOU!" to Farengar in general, Flynn was going to set up camp directly outside of the city. Just because.

Sighing, Flynn walked around the tundra outside of Whiterun, trying to find a nice little alcove to nestle under and set up camp. It took about a half hour, but she found a nice little rocky outcrop that sheltered her from the wind and was near to both the city and a gurgling stream. Pulling out a makeshift tent and a bedroll, Flynn set up her bedroll and set out a bucket to fill with water for later. Strolling through the tundra, Flynn found some nice logs and brought them back to her camp. She rolled some sizable stones out of the river and made a circle before throwing some wood inside of it. She called forth some fire to her hand, and within seconds she had a happily flickering campfire. Relaxing for awhile, Flynn read some more of her spell tomes she'd gotten from Farengar, thumbing through the pages. She practiced a little while and managed to succeed in mastering a Frost and Fire cloak spell, though she couldn't quite get the Lightning one down. Soon, she grew tired of reading about magic and went to walk around through the tundra, reveling in the cool breeze and shuffling grasses.

After about twenty minutes of water, the twang of a bowstring made Flynn pause. Peering around in the inky darkness, Flynn tried to find the source (mostly to see if they were shooting at her) and caught sight of 5 silhouettes of what looked like bandits, judging by the fur armor they appeared to be wearing. The distinct yelp of animalistic pain startled her, and Flynn looked around to see the stumbling outline of what was probably a large sabre cat trying to run away. If the bandits were trying to kill the poor thing for food, they were picking the wrong animal; sabre cats had more fur than meat. Another twang, and Flynn winced as an arrow got stuck into the creature's hind leg. It fell to the ground after letting out a terrible cry, and moved no longer.

"Where'd the mutt go?!" One of the bandits cried, peering around in the darkness.

"He's around here somewhere. We got a good shot in, and I saw him fall. Try to listen, the dogs are heavy breathers."

What? Dog? Were they trying to kill some dog? One of the people turned and saw her standing a distance away.

"Hey, look!" The person nudged his buddies, and they all looked to her.

"...Hello...?" Flynn called out to them, unsure whether or not they were going to attack her.

The answer she got was one of them screaming, "GET HER!" and the stretching of a bowstring. Ducking down to let an arrow go careening over her head, Flynn jetted forward, pulling out her Elven and Dwarven swords as she ran towards them. They all looked pretty scrawny, so it was sure to be an easy fight. She had her cloak to fall back on anyway. All of a sudden, the sabre cat from before roared to it's feet and swiped it's long claw across one of the bandit's abdomen, spilling his guts to the earth. His buddies backed away, weapons glinting in the light of the two moons. The remaining four bandits turned their attention away from her in favor of circling around the creature. Flynn watched in awe as the- as the _not_ sabre cat knocked the weapon away from it as one bandit tried to slash at it's neck. Another ran in and cut across the back of it's right leg, and the not-sabre cat went wild, lashing out all around it. Suddenly snapping back into focus, Flynn backed away and hid behind a nearby rock, watching the creature fight. No one seemed to pay any attention to her, instead focused on the on-going battle. After a minute it became clear that the creature was too weak to continue fighting as it fell to it's knees, flopping pathetically to the ground. With a zealous grin, the bandit leaned forward as the creature laid there, waiting for the killing blow. One bandit had fallen by the creature's blows; three bandits remained. The poor thing couldn't do more than growl weakly as a booted foot nudged the creature's head.

"What d'you think? Finish it off, or take it back to Krev?"

"How would we get this freak back? He's too big." There was a low whistle of amazement.

"Might be one of the twins. Or it's that war veteran."

"Doesn't matter which one he is. Just take his head off for a trophy. Krev'll be happy with just that."

"Wish we could figure out how they're getting in and out of the city."

"We'll have to keep a closer eye on those idiots."

What? What were these bandits talking about? The bandits began to talk about her.

"Where d'ya think that woman ran off to?"

"Probably to go alert the guards. We should finish here quickly, just in case."

"Shouldn't we find her and kill her?"

"Nah, not worth the hassle. It's dark anyway; she probably didn't get a proper look at us."

The bandit suddenly stepped directly on the creature's wound, making the poor thing scream, then whimper pathetically. Flynn felt her heart ache, and was horrified. That...er, thing was a creature, and there they were, making it go through Oblivion before killing it! How dare they make this creature suffer like that!? She was by no means an animal lover, but gods...the way that thing was crying was horrible. Flynn considered her options for a moment, before deciding 'fuck it'. They were bandits anyway. Just because they were being dicks, she was going to-

"That's enough chit-chat. Come on, let's just finish up here—"

* * *

Farkas squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow. Couldn't these assholes just kill him already? Everything hurt, and all the talking was hurting his brain. They finally decided they'd put him out of his misery, and he heard a blade slice through the air. Instead of feeling blinding pain explode across him, he heard a gurgle and the scraping sound of steel on steel, followed by screaming from the other Silver Hands. He lifted his head, blinking blood out of his eyes. He couldn't lift his head that much, but it was enough to see the baffling sight of some woman clad in steel plated armor whirling through the hunters, cutting them down effortlessly one by one with two swords, one Elven and one Dwarven. Her long braid swayed behind her as she danced around her enemies, swishing hypnotically as she fought. Getting the feeling that she was a little preoccupied with the Silver Hand, he laid his head back down, too weak and tired to bother with keeping it up anymore. The night grew silent, and he heard a faint groan nearby that was quickly cut off by the quiet swoosh of a weapon flying in the air. Light footsteps crunched in the tall grass, halting just out of his reach. He heard the distinct creak of bending leather as the woman took a knee beside him. He growled in a pathetic attempt to make her back off, but he was surprised to feel a gentle hand touch his head, stroking his ear.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Farkas stayed still, breathing unevenly, unable to help a whine of pain from escaping.

"It's alright, you...gigantic dog...thing." The voice soothed kind of awkwardly. "I can heal you, but I'm gonna take out this arrow first. Can't have it still lodged in your body. Please don't bite me or uh...rip my face off."

Farkas managed a nod, which seemed to greatly surprise the woman. "Oh! Oh, Mara's left tit, can you understand me!?" The woman asked, sounding completely baffled.

Of course he understood. The Circle weren't ordinary werewolves. He felt the tentative touch of a calloused hand stroke the fur on his cheek. He looked up at her and nodded again. Huh. She was a Redguard.

"Wow, I-I uh...okay. That's...new. Alright, uh...easy now, big guy...girl, whatever you are. I'm going to take care of you." The strange babbled with a note of hysteria in her tone, pushing a hand through her long, black hair.

If Farkas had enough energy, he might've laughed.

The woman removed her hand from her hair and he heard the hiss of a sucked in breath. "They really fucked you up, didn't they?" Farkas whined in assent. "All right, brace yourself, this isn't going to feel all that delightful."

Farkas keened as the arrow in his hind leg was quite unceremoniously ripped out. That alone reignited a new sense of agony in him and he howled loudly to voice his immense discomfort. Before he fully realized what was happened, he began to change back into his normal self before he could stop it, his body contorting and rippling. The change back was never pleasant, but fuck, this was worse than usual. By the time the change was over, he felt tears trickling down his cheeks. He was too weak to even move anymore. He was so tired and all he wanted to do was lie there, naked, vulnerable, in the blood-stained grass and go to sleep.

"Whoa, I-Farkas?!"

Farkas furrowed his brows. "H-How do you know my name?" The weakness in his tone was shocking, but expected.

"I, uh...holy shit you can turn into a huge dog. Awesome." Farkas looked tiredly up at the woman who, in the moonlight, was starting to look vaguely familiar. He was so tired. "I...Oh, don't you dare. Come on, Farkas. You've got to stay awake. Work with me."

"Too tired," he whispered.

The woman put a hand on his back and began to rub little circles, applying enough pressure to both soothe him and keep him awake. Her other hand dug around in her bag, which was making some out of place clinking noises, before she pulled a red-tinted bottle out of her bag. Trying to turn him over as gently as possible, she laid Farkas on his back and propped him up against her chest, using her left shoulder to support his head. The woman uncorked the bottle and held it to his lips. He barely had the energy to open his mouth. She tilted the contents into his mouth, and he tasted the sickly sweetness of a healing potion assault his taste buds. Some of the potion dribbled down his chin, which the woman wiped away with the knuckles on her already occupied right hand. Craning her left arm, she massaged his throat, coaxing him to swallow.

"There you go, honey. You have to drink this if you want to feel better." The woman soothed, tilting more of the potion into his mouth.

The more he drank, the more the pain ebbed away inch by inch. He felt his injuries close, until they no longer marred his skin. He still felt tired. He felt gross. He was covered in blood, dirt, sweat, and Ysgramor knew what else.

"Good job, honey. Better?"

"Better."

"Do you think you can stand yourself, or should I carry you? Either way is okay, I'm pretty strong...I think." The woman asked, rubbing his back.

Farkas didn't even bother trying; he knew there was no way he could walk. Instead of responding, he let out a loud groan and hid his face in the woman's neck. Now that the danger was pretty much passed, he felt both mortified and terrified. He'd almost died. If it wasn't for this woman, he'd be dead right now. Vilkas would've left the city in search of him, just to find his mangled, headless corpse in the grass. And now, he was naked, tired, and disgusting, right in the arms of this nice lady. A tear trickled down his cheek, followed by another, and another. He couldn't stop it. Humming sadly, he felt the woman's soft hands slide under him and start pulling upward. The woman was surprisingly strong. She picked him up as if he were a bride and rocked gently, trying to calm him down. He wrapped his arms around her neck like a child.

"You smell like a wet dog," The woman laughed quietly.

Farkas grunted, knowing that all too well. "Shhh, it's okay. If you keep crying, I'm going to start crying, and then where are we gonna be?"

Farkas huffed a laugh through his tears as she began to walk.

"There's a nice, deep stream near here. I set up camp nearby it. My camp's just outside of the city out of spite for Farengar, actually."

"Why the Court Mage?" He croaked, licking his lips.

The woman seemed a little ticked as she recounted how Farengar had nearly sent her to her death in search of some stupid rock tablet. "I figured that after that, I'd make him wait until morning for the thing I got him. You can stay with me at my camp for the night, and I'll send you home in the morning. For now, let's get you cleaned up. You're covered in blood and dirt and it's gross."

Farkas didn't ask any of the dozen questions he had for the woman, too tired to form the words. The sound of rushing water met his ears after about 3 minutes of silence. The woman didn't bother with stripping, which confused him, but he didn't really question it as she sank into the chilly water, setting him on her lap. She called forth some fire magic, which startled him terribly, and warmed the water around them. She chuckled at his bewildered face and began to gently wipe the blood and grossness off of him. Leaning backwards, he just let the nice lady wash him. He nearly moaned when she began to card her wet, warm hands through his hair, and he leaned heavily to her touch as she cleaned his hair. He ignored the rumbles of suppressed laughter resonating in her chest, opting to instead study his savior's face. She had a rather long nose, really long black hair, thick lips, and...silver eyes? Was she a werewolf too? No, no, he'd be able to smell it. Huh. Silver eyes weren't common, especially in Redguards. She looked strict, but pretty nice. She was pretty in general, actually. All too soon, she rose from the water, and startled him back into awareness by lighting both of them on fire.

"It's okay," She soothed, "Farengar taught me this, indirectly, of course. It's not going to burn you; it'll just dry you off. It only hurts who I want it to hurt." She explained, noticing his wide-eyes. "Just a simple flame-cloak spell."

"Oh..." He didn't really know how to respond to that.

"Alright, you don't happen to have any clothes nearby, do you? I mean, I've got some loincloths and some clothes on me from Helgen, but I dunno if they'll fit you or not."

"Helgen?"

The woman balked a little. "I-uh...long story short, I was there when _that_ happened. I looted a chest and there was a lot of nice stuff in there, including some clothes. I was probably going to give it all to Fralia Gray-Mane or Belethor to sell later." She shrugged.

Her eyes raked over his naked form (which made him squirm), and after a moment she dug around in her bag and pulled out a loin cloth, some long, brown pants, and a tan, loose shirt. Helping him sit up, she aided him in clothing himself, and picked him up once more. Sufficiently drained, Farkas leaned his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. The kind stranger's camp came into sight after what seemed like an eternity…a small fire and squashy bedroll under a rock overhang, Dragonsreach looming overhead. The stranger laid him down on the bedroll and began to undress from her green dress, and pulled on what looked like a shirt that miner's typically wore, and a long, blue skirt. She took off her boots and laid next to him. Farkas looked over at her and thought for a second. His pride be damned, Farkas rolled over into her arms. Sighing, the woman patted him on the head and pulled the top of the bedroll over them both. Farkas heaved a long sigh and relaxed into her arms, closing his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, glad he could finally sleep.

"Mhm. Thanks for not dying."

Farkas fell asleep before he had the wit to respond. Next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes again. He rubbed his eyes and squinted up at the rock ceiling overhead. He stared at it in confusion, so weak and tired he could barely open his eyes. He could tell it was still night, since there wasn't a lot of light. He could feel and hear a fire crackling merrily next to him, but he felt a shiver run down his back. Why was he so cold? He heard ruffling of fabric and turned his head, causing a wave of dizziness to assault him. He turned onto his side with a groan and squeezed his eyes shut, his head spinning.

"You need to eat something, Farkas." A smooth, feminine yet deep voice sounded from where he'd heard the fabric rustle.

Who was laying next to him? Why did he feel so bad?

"Can't," Farkas whispered.

He shivered, feeling terribly cold even though he knew he shouldn't be cold. He could feel the warmth of the fire and the fur lining of the bedroll but it still wasn't enough.

"You lost a lot of blood, and I can't exactly fix that. While you were asleep, I killed a rabbit and made you some stew." Farkas felt the woman sidle closer to him and put a hand to his forehead. "You're cold." She hummed, concern bleeding into her voice. "We need to get some food in you before you conk out again. If that isn't enough, I'll need to get you back to your mead hall place where Eorlund works, and into a real bed."

"Who are you?" The idea that this lady knew his name and where he was from was suddenly terrifying.

"Just a wanderer. I helped you out earlier, remember?"

Farkas opened his eyes and looked at the woman. Silver eyes. Black, long hair, braid. Big lips, longish nose. Redguard. He recognized her as the earlier events came hurtling back to him. The Silver Hand kicked his ass, and she'd saved his life. Even between the light of the moons and fire, it was hard to make out her face in it's entirety. Still, she looked familiar.

"I remember. How do you know who I am?" He asked her, narrowing his eyes confusedly.

"Remember the giant at Pelagia farm?"

It clicked.

"OH! You're that really cool lady who kicked that giant's ass!" His own yelling made his head swim, but he didn't care. How had he forgotten?!

"Yes. I'm also the lady who's saved your ass twice. Now, shush, and eat some food." The woman pushed the bowl of stew towards him.

Fumbling with the fork, Farkas managed to maneuver some food into his mouth

He could only finish half the bowl until he felt himself drifting off. The woman laughed at him and pushed the hair from his face, laying him back down. She pulled him into her arms and gently raked her nails up and down his back.

"I...never got your name..." Farkas slurred tiredly, unable to keep his eyes open.

He fell asleep before he got his answer. In the morning, he felt as healthy as a horse (even though he was still a little lightheaded and cold), the woman was gone, and both Skjor and Vilkas were standing over him with matching disgruntled expressions.

 **Please leave a review. They mean a whole lot.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, if you guys want to laugh at me, I got super high and ended up leaving a review on my own story. At the time I had the tab with that chapter open and thought the story was someone else's work. In retrospect, I don't know why I didn't wonder why this story looked awfully familiar. It should be the 6th review on here. It'll probably be taken down soon, so look while you still can.**

Flynn watched the sun languidly rise from behind the mountains, brightening the sky and signalling the start of a new day. She sighed and scrubbed her face tiredly, staring at the rock ceiling above her. She wanted to get up, but at the same time she really, really didn't. Flynn craned her neck to look down at Farkas, who was still snoozing peacefully with his face nestled comfortably in the crook of her neck. His weight on her chest was kind of suffocating, and she was pretty sure he was drooling a little on her neck, but she didn't have the heart to wake him up just yet. Regardless, she knew she probably shouldn't leave Farengar or the Jarl waiting much longer, lest they send some other poor fool to the barrow in her stead. Mustering some willpower, Flynn begrudgingly pulled herself up. Brushing Farkas's tangled hair out of his face, she gently pried him off of her and pulled her bedroll over him. Patting his back, Flynn stood up and stretched her legs, feeling tired but generally okay.

She took a while to carefully and quietly pack up her belongings, opting to let Farkas sleep for as long as possible. He didn't stir much, just rolled over every now and then, and it wasn't long until Flynn was ready to go. Flynn leaned against the rocky wall, studying Farkas's face. He looked strange without his war paint. Flynn sat there for awhile, not really thinking about anything significant while thumbing through some of the spell tomes Farengar had given to her. She found it fascinating that the words in the books would burn away as soon as she read them. Closing one of the tomes dealing with ward magic, she sighed and ran a hand through her mussed hair. She really had to get a move on, but did she really have to wake Farkas up just yet? She was sure he'd be fine by himself. Then again, it'd probably be better to get him home as soon as possible, and Jorrvaskr was by no means out of the way. But wait, he'd probably want to drag her back to Jorrvaskr so his friends could praise her like the citizens of Riverwood had done numerous times already. That was the last thing she wanted; attention was terrible.

Thinking for a moment, Flynn came to a compromise. She'd leave Farkas alone, but she'd put up some ward spells and runes to keep him protected. It took a couple of tries, but she managed to put up a ward spell that'd generally shield Farkas from sight, and placed down 6 runes, 4 fire runes, and 2 frost. Satisfied (and completely winded), she kissed Farkas on the forehead before departing into the early light of dawn. It took about half an hour of jogging, but she made it up to Dragonsreach just in time for the Jarl to stumble downstairs. Anette nearly dropped her teacup upon noticing Flynn's arrival.

"Oh! Flynnigan has returned!" She yelled over her shoulder to the occupants of Dragonsreach before she swept to Flynn's side. "We were so worried, young lady! We were beginning to suspect you'd perished!" She gently cupped Flynn's cheek as if reassuring herself Flynn was truly there. "Was that silly stone tablet where Farengar said it was?"

Ah yes, the Dragonstone.

Feeling her anger from the night before reignite itself, she spat, "Oh, he is _very_ lucky that it was. I have some choice words for him, actually. Anette, why don't you go into the kitchen and fix me a cup of mint tea? Please, _take your time_." Flynn stressed the last bit, sending Anette a pointed look.

Anette got the hint and scurried off to the kitchen as fast as her old hips could carry her frail, thin body. By the time Flynn was finished expressing exactly where Farengar could shove his "stupid fucking rock", the mint tea had long since gone cold and 2 of the Jarl's children were in tears. Hugging Anette and the other maids tightly, Flynn made a point of flipping the bird at the Jarl and the Court Mage as she walked backwards outside of Dragonsreach. In retrospect, she'd wonder how she'd managed to go down the stairs backwards, but for now, she was going to go bitch at Eorlund, since he was her friend(?) and he was the closest to Dragonsreach.

"Hey, Eorlund." Flynn called as she made it to the top of the steps leading to the Skyforge.

Eorlund jumped at the sound of her voice and gaped at her, eyes wide. "By the Nine, I was starting to wonder if you'd died!" Eorlund huffed a laugh, his face breaking into a wide grin.

He stood up from his grindstone and crushed Flynn into a hug. "How's that armor been working for you, lass?"

Flynn shrugged indifferently. "It's heavy as fuck, but I've adjusted to it. How has forging been?"

"It's been alright. Made some new armor, sharpened Vilkas's sword, and had to fix up Aela's shield. Aela told me she'd met you, actually. Did you honestly withstand the blow of a giant's club?" Eorlund asked, a note of curiosity in his tone.

"Yes, I did. Impressed Farkas, though I'm pretty sure it scared him a little too."

"Aye, that it did. Boy, did he look shaken." Eorlund suddenly frowned. "I'm worried about him, actually."

Flynn had the sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly why, but she humored Eorlund in asking, "And why would that be?"

"Vilkas tells me he didn't come back to Jorrvaskr last night. If he was going on a job I wouldn't be so worried, but...well, it's no matter."

Flynn decided to prod a little to see if maybe Eorlund knew about what Farkas could apparently turn into. "Do you suppose he went out to run around the tundra?"

Eorlund narrowed his eyes at her, "Where did that come from?"

The note of apprehension in his tone was enough for Flynn to assume the answer to her unasked question. "Well, I hope that you know that Farkas can turn into a gigantic dog...thing, because if you don't you're going to make a very shocked expression."

Instead of his expression morphing into shock, it turned several shades paler. Not waiting for him to say anything, Flynn continued on.

"Okay, so you _do_ know. Eorlund, I've heard about werewolves and I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that he _might_ be one."

Eorlund sighed, looking to the side. "Your suspicions are correct; Farkas is a werewolf. How did you find out?" Eorlund's voice sounded calm, resigned even, but the tightening of his arm muscles gave away how threatened he felt.

"Relax. He's alright, I didn't hurt him. I was hanging out in the tundra last night as an act of spite against Farengar, which I'll explain later. I was walking around when I came across him being jumped by 5 or 6 bandits. If it weren't for me, he'd probably be dead right now. I clothed him after he changed back to his normal form, healed him, cleaned him up, and let him sleep with me after making him eat something. Right now he's still probably snoozing. He'll be alright; I set up a shitload of runes and wards around him so if anyone tries to fuck with him, they'll die." Flynn shrugged.

"What if he wakes up and steps on the runes?" Eorlund shuffled his feet, looking very alarmed.

"The runes I placed react to people breaching an area. Since he's already in the area, he should be alright." Flynn briefly explained.

"Oh," Eorlund visibly sagged in relief, "good. He really is alright, then?"

"Yes. He's bound to be a little disoriented since he didn't really eat enough to replenish his blood supply, but as long as he gets some more food in him before he conks out again, he should be alright."

Eorlund looked at her with an odd look and said, "You wouldn't happen to be a healer, would you?"

Flynn paused at that, her lips pulling into a frown.

 _Dirty basement walls. Glass. A lot of glass; all shattered. In her arms, her leg, her head, her stomach, her everywhere. Musty, cold ground. Tears. Yellow light, warmth. No more tears; it's okay; it's really not. Tired, can't sleep. Need food. Need to eat._

 _It's not okay. Never okay._

Shaking herself, Flynn pulled herself out of her own mind. "...Of sorts," She answered Eorlund question.

Eorlund nodded at that. "That's good; we could use more healers in Skyrim. Say, we could actually use someone like that in Jorrvaskr; do you need a job?"

The answer to that question was "Yes" but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"No," She shook her head, "besides, I'm not nearly experienced enough for the injuries I'm sure your warriors typically have. I'd need to spend more time working on my alchemy or practicing the restoration spells Farengar gave me to take on a job like that. Maybe both, actually."

"Speaking of Farengar, you said something about him earlier, having to do with spite?"

Oh, yes. The reason she'd come here in the first place.

Clasping her hands together, Flynn leveled eyes with Eorlund. "Oh, Eorlund, you wouldn't even _believe_ the shit I've been through because of that jackass!"

For the next 20 minutes, Eorlund listened calmly as Flynn very angrily recounted her tale of Bleak Falls Barrow with exaggerated arm movements. She told him about how she'd been attacked before she'd even gone inside, gotten jumped by skeevers upon entry shortly followed by more bandits, had a gigantic spider fall on top of her head (she now understood Ulfric's pain), set off a load of booby traps, woken up draugr, subsequently fought said draugr, used a golden claw to open a door after being pelted several times with poisoned darts, had her mind raped by some weird stone wall, and had to fight off a very, very pissed off draugr that had quite literally burst out of it's coffin. By the end, Eorlund was unsurprised by what had gone down (this was usually the case in all Nordic tombs, he'd explained), but was astounded she'd survived with so little experience, and was very cross with the Jarl and Court Mage.

"So, let me get this straight, you're telling me those fools sent you to a bandit and draugr infested tomb for the sake of some stupid rock, right after you'd fended off a _dragon?!"_

"That's exactly what I'm telling you!"

Eorlund clenched his fist and looked up at Dragonsreach, and growled, "I ought to go beat them up for you right now, sweetie. I may be old, but I can still kick their scrawny asses with no problem. Making all this armor and lugging around steel all day hasn't done nothing for me!"

Flynn sighed, chuckling tiredly, "I'd love to sic you on them, but don't. You'll get in trouble."

Eorlund shook his head, pressing his lips in a thin line. "Very well. Still, I admire your tenacity. Three days? I would've left after a couple hours."

"Eh, I had nothing better to do with myself," Flynn shrugged. "It would be nice if I was a little stronger, though."

"You have a real big fire in you, lass. That much is clear to me. Y'know, from what you've told me, you adjusted to your armor very quickly. Impressive. I think you're just fine. If you want to be stronger though, why don't you travel around a bit, unless you'd like to join the Companions?"

Flynn shook her head. "I'd rather not. Jorrvaskr's warriors are bent on glory and honor. While there's nothing wrong with that, I don't care for that. I don't need the attention."

Eorlund hummed in understanding. "I figured. If that's what you wish, I won't pressure you, even if I think you'd thrive with the Companions. If you want to get stronger, why don't you explore and take on the challenges yourself? That's a good way to build yourself into a warrior."

"Should I, though? I could die."

"You may, but something tells me you wouldn't. You spent 3 days clearing out a tomb infested with bandits and draugr. That's no tiny feat. With the determination you have, I'd say you'd persevere just fine. And hey, if you get injured, you could work on that restoration and alchemy you were telling me about."

 _Dirty basement walls. It was cold, so cold. She was cold, she was tired. Glass. A lot of glass; all shattered. In her arms, her leg, her head, her stomach, her everywhere. Musty, cold ground. Tears. Yellow light, warmth. She is weak. Weak little girl._

 _She does not want to be weak anymore._

Flynn nodded in assent. "I will. I'll wander around Skyrim, and I will become a warrior. Thank you, Eorlund."

"Anytime, lass. Remember, you're always welcome at my door, and my forge too."

"I know."

With her mind on becoming stronger, she hugged Eorlund and hurried down the stairs away from the Skyforge. She hurried past the screaming Heimskr, the dying tree, nearly tripped down the steps, and she skidded to a halt by Carlotta. Ysolda was nearby too.

"You two, I'm going to be gone for awhile, and who knows? I might not come back. But, in the short time I've known you two, I wanted you both to know I like you both a lot, and I will send you letters." Flynn explained.

"Whoa, whoa, Flynn! Slow down, there! What's going on, where are you going?" Carlotta furrowed her brows, gently grasping her friend by the shoulders.

Flynn felt her lips pull into an excited and kind of manic grin. "Everywhere! All over Skyrim. I'm going to become stronger."

She hugged both Ysolda and Carlotta tightly, and off she went, ignoring her friends calling her name.

* * *

She spent months prowling around in the cold wastelands of the Pale, stomping through snow and slush. She worked on her destruction and illusion magic to both keep her warm and shielded from prying eyes during the frozen nights. When she'd long since gotten used to the cold temperatures and fighting to stay alive, she travelled around Haafingar. She came across what the residents of Dragon's Bridge referred to as the Steed Stone during her travels, which made her feel as strong as all Oblivion, which one of the guards had explained was the magic of the ancient stone itself. From there she spent months traveling to all areas of Skyrim, from Markarth to Riften. She spent time near Ivarstead in a shack long forgotten with a dusty alchemy table. She worked on her alchemy and quickly became known for her potions. She went to Morthal and laid waste to a vampiric plot, bringing justice to Helgi. She spent time in Falkreath, helping the citizens and exploring the woods. She was even given a plot of land as a gift, on which she built a humble home. She went on to Riften and shut down a Skooma business, and became friends with the argonians and the smith.

Somehow, she'd also managed to gain the respect of Maven Black-Briar after she'd survived 3 Dark Brotherhood assassins and 8 groups of hired thugs Maven had sent after her when she'd insulted Maven's terrible hairstyle. She went to Dawnstar and took care of the dream problem (may or may not have killed a priest of Mara) and vandalized a weird black door that talked into her head. She went to Winterhold and talked with some of the mages before making a hefty donation to the Jarl to rebuild his town. From there she went to Windhelm, investigated some murders, and spent time with Ulfric, talking about his war. She made friends with the argonians there too. She then travelled to Markarth, where she lead the Forsworn out of the mines before slaughtering Madanach in front of them all as an example to the city. She made friends with the old alchemist and orc blacksmiths, and spent time with Calcelmo, working with him to translate the ancient language of the Falmer (he quite liked her bag). Finally, she went to Solitude, watched some guy get executed, spoke with Lady Elisif, may or may not have invaded the mind of Pelagius, and tackled the Wolf Queen herself. She made frequent visits to Riverwood in between her travels, each time with more strength, power, and stories. The townsfolk revelled in her stories (though she conveniently left out the stories of her dealings with Daedra, save for the stories about Sheogorath, Sanguine, and Barbas, since they were all harmlessly- and hilariously -absurd) and cherished all of her visit. It was also nice that, whenever she was in Riverwood, Ysolda and Carlotta would walk across the tundra for an hour just to see her.

Speaking of which, about one year after Helgen, Riverwood was where she was now. Once more, she was hanging out with the townsfolk in the Inn. Delphine had long since caved to her curiosity and was washing mugs while listening inconspicuously. Ysolda and Carlotta sat near to her, Mila seated in Carlotta's lap. Haming was curled next to her, his head gently laid on her thigh as she patted his head. Dorthe and Frodnar were also nearby her, along with Sigrid and Gerdur. Eira, Ralof, Hadvar, Alfhild, and Alvor were also nearby, listening attentively. Alfhild had returned to Windhelm for some time before deciding to return to Riverwood and live there. She and Eira had both been built a home, along with another home that was supposed to be occupied by Hadvar and Ralof, but generally stayed empty. At this moment though, it was occupied by Eira's father in law Froki Whetted-Blade, who had come to Riverwood spend time with her and his grandson after the one year anniversary of Helgen. Finishing her tale about what had happened in Markarth, Flynn moved on to her adventure in Fellglow Keep.

"Now, before I begin this, let me preface this by letting it be noted to those who don't know that I loot the dungeons I clear out after I'm sure it's devoid of life. In other terms, I murder everyone first and _then_ I take their crap."

That roused a couple chuckles out of everyone.

"So, I strode right out of Markarth with my head held high, right, and I thought to myself, I'm pissed off. Let's go into a place that is filled with bad people and murder them all! That'll cheer me up!"

"I can relate to that," A passing mercenary (who'd come to the town for a drink and had been roped into story time) snorted. "Where'd you go?"

"Excellent question. I wandered around for awhile, asking around for good dungeons to clear out. Eventually, I ended up in Rorikstead. I hung out with this kid Erik for a while and asked him if he knew about any good places filled with bandits or rogue mages. He looked at me like I was crazy, but told me about Fellglow Keep."

* * *

When Flynn arrived, there were two mages and a fire atronach on-guard outside. She made quick work of all of them, and found the entrance to the massive fort. Descending down the spiral staircase, she slowly swung open the heavy wooden door, pushing her way inside as quietly as she could. There was a collapsed dresser right by the door with two dresses and some nice boots still inside. She shoved them in her bag and crept down the musty stairs, feeling along the slimy walls since the light of the torch nearby was hardly enough. Moss covered areas on the floor, some fallen pillars coated with some of the moss on the bottom. A dim lantern glittered ahead, illuminating some slimy, salmon infested water. Flynn could only imagine how fish had ended up there. There were some barnacles growing on a half submerged stone that she pocketed, wading quietly through the water. Two skeevers stood ahead of her, growling quietly as they waddled along. Killing them swiftly, she walked around a rusty bear trap and through the wooden, rotten door. Ashes of a thrall long forgotten slid beneath her feet as she crept along, staying close to the left wall. Two frostbite spiders splashed about in the water ahead. She hurled two ice spears at them lackadasicalling, hearing too late the steps of a nearby mage.

"What the-!?" The man sputtered, hurrying down the algae-covered steps.

 _Shit!_

Yanking her swords out of their sheathes, Flynn dodged a ball of fire and sliced the man across the neck. He choked on his own blood, his hand uselessly flying up to clutch at his torn neck. His body convulsed grotesquely before he fell limply to the ground, moving no longer. A little shaken by his brutal death she hurried up the stairs, flattening herself against the wall and listening for more movement. Nothing. She crept past the table the dead mage had probably been sitting at, going down the cramped hallway. There were stairs going up, and down to the left. Looking down the left stairs, Flynn saw a bunch of cages. Jumping over a pressure plate and shaking her head, she went up the stairs ahead of her and came upon the door. All there was inside was some nice armor and a locked chest, which she made note of. She'd come back for it later. Going down the left stairs, all Flynn came across were some blood-starved, insane vampires locked in cages. She put them out of their misery gently, before continuing on after getting rid of a mage who had walked in at the wrong time. She slapped a stamina potion she'd almost missed into her bag, continuing into a wide, open area. Two mages stood inside, poking around in torn-open corpses. Shivering in disgust, Flynn didn't bother with sneaking and instead took them all by surprise, ending their miserable lives quickly. Making her way down a narrow staircase, Flynn came across a circular room filled with more cells.

There was a very bored looking mage sitting in a chair, lobbing fireballs at some of the prisoners. It smelled strongly of fecal matter and urine, which disgusted her because that bore testament to how long some of these people had been here. Standing up and prowling in the shadows, she snuck up behind the mage and snapped his neck before he got the chance to scream. Noticing what had happened, some of the prisoners slammed against their cell bars, screaming at her to please let them out, pointing wildly at the levers. The desperation in their voices was sickening; she knew she'd be hearing that in her dreams. She couldn't blame them at all; anyone would be so desperate with their salvation dangling in front of him. She gladly obliged in pulling the levers, feeling her heart clench for these poor people. Several people didn't have the strength to even stand. She threw healing potions around like candy, and took extra care of the prisoners who could hardly stand. Many of the prisoners hugged her tightly as they sobbed their eyes out in gratitude and relief. Flynn pointed out the closest city, Whiterun, on her map and gave the captives directions and instructed them to take care of those of them who couldn't walk. She pointed the prisoners to an innocent chest nearby that most likely held their belongings. They laughed and cried as they retrieved what was theirs, and expressing their gratitude over and over again, the prisoners left as a large group, the strongest of them carrying the weakest. She made sure to warn them of the pressure plate up ahead from the other room full of cages, giving them directions out so they wouldn't run into anyone else bad. Giving the room a once over, she nodded to herself, satisfied with her handiwork and pretty sure no one else was being held captive. She sighed, looking sadly at the people in the cages who had perished. She wished she'd made it to Fellglow sooner; perhaps they could've been saved. She'd come back for their bodies and given them proper rest once everything was said and done. One of the corpses caught her eyes; was looked to be a "he" was dressed in tattered college robes; probably a scholar at the College of Winterhold. Shame. She took a soul gem out of the dead mage's pocket, and continued on.

The stairs up ahead lead upstairs, close to the end of the Keep. She didn't want to go there yet, so she went downstairs instead, coming across a mage instructing others to hurl fireballs and ice spears at vampires. One was already dead, and another wailing. Vampires or not, those were living creatures. Or, not living, but they still felt pain and stuff, and torturing them wasn't right. She make quick work of the three mages and offered comfort to the vampire as it succumbed to its injuries. She soothed it as best as she could, stroking their marred face as they clutched her hand. She stayed there long after the vampire had passed, offering a prayer to send the vampire somewhere nice and find peace in their second death. Saddened, she continued up more stairs, picking some nice garlic off of a braid. As she reached the top of the stairs, she was faced with an idly strolling mage and a suspiciously long hallway lined with coffins. As if feeling her presence, weaker draugr began to rise from their rest, peering around with their glowing blue eyes. Pressing her lips in a line, Flynn gathered a lot of ice magic and shot it towards the draugr, killing them all instantly and injuring the mage. The mage cursed loudly in alarm, and began to run in her direction, eyes landing on her. A quick jet of fire to the face made her eyes lose their light. Another mage stood at the end of the dimly lit hallway, looking around for her fearfully. She ended his life quickly as well, and continued into the next room, walking down a narrow and very dusty hallway. Shoving a coin purse into her bag, she continued upstairs, hearing the sound of someone smithing. The next room didn't yield the source of the smithing, instead revealing a lounging mage and a lot of benches surrounding a makeshift summoning circle.

He didn't even see her coming. Chuckling at how easy it was to kill everyone, she continued into the next room. Two mages chatted about their experiments as they sipped on what looked like ale from her position across the room. She dispatched them both with ice spears to the skull, taking their bottle of ale with her. She trotted along a long hallway, ending up in a very open room with a staircase in the middle of the west wall. There was a large door to the left that most likely led outside. Flynn ignored it in favor of entering the room across from her. Two mages caught sight of her immediately as she entered, firing two ice bolts at her face directly. They hit her head on and somehow she managed to blindly kill them. Drinking a health potion, she felt her injuries heal and she explored the room, finding what was likely meant to be a makeshift bathroom. Finding that the room led to nowhere else, she jogged up the stairs on the west wall in the big room and into a room on the right where she found another one of those weird, glowing stones in the gold cases and the probable source of the past smithing noises. Pocketing the weird glowing gem, she continued out of the room, looking for another place to go. It took her a moment, but she noticed a door directly across from the staircase and to the left, both shrouded from sight by some clever wards. Smiling, Flynn went through the left door, coming across a library inhabited by two conversing mages. She made her way past them, silencing them both with sharp-shot ice spears, and continued down another hallway. There was a mage and another flame atronach who quickly fell by her hand, and another two rooms. She ignored the closer room, instead picking the lock to the room on the right hand wall. There was nothing of real note in the room or the next, so she went up the spiral staircase, finding an array of scrolls and potions lined on shelves. Slapping it into her bag, she continued into a large, circular only to be stopped by a sudden voice.

"So _you're_ the one who barged into my home and laid waste to my projects." an Altmer woman clad in a hooded blue robe called to her, her tone painted in annoyance. "How _nice_ to meet you."

"Who...are you?" Flynn called cautiously, wondering if she was the reason all of those people had been held captive.

"Names no longer matter. You may refer to me as The Caller," The woman smoothly replied, surprisingly composed considering all of her minions were dead. "Now, do you have a reason for making such a mess?"

"I...uh, I was in Markarth, I was mistakenly imprisoned and subsequently escaped, and I came here to blow off some steam…" Flynn sheepishly shrugged.

The Caller raised a thin eyebrow, her mouth parting. "You came here, and murdered a ginormous fort full of powerful mages...to blow off steam?"

Flynn nodded in assent.

The Caller, in turn, looked utterly baffled. "I'd assumed you were here for Savos Aren's stolen books. You honestly came here and laid waste to all of my hard work...just because?"

Hard work? Ah, so she _was_ the reason all of those people were being held captive. Fantastic.

Feeling her blood begin to boil, Flynn slowly approached The Caller with soft footsteps, keeping her voice eerily calm. "Yeah, pretty much."

The Caller sighed very deeply and heavily, scrubbing her face with her open palm. "Fuck it," She muttered. "Take the damn books anyway and get out of my face immediately."

"What?" Flynn quirked a brow. Did this woman, this heinous _witch,_ honestly think Flynn was going to leave without her head on a pike?

"You heard me, you dangerous, ebony-clad lunatic. Take the books and go."

"You're...not even going to attack me?" Flynn took a few more cautious steps towards The Caller.

"No. Leave me be to continue my experiments, and I won't murder you. Just go."

Let her continue her experiments? Images of the ragged, disheveled prisoners came to mind and Flynn pressed her mouth in a flat line. As if!

Flynn unsheathed her blade slowly and quietly, "Well, if you really aren't going to do anything, I'm going to feel really bad about this. Oh, wait. No, I'm not. You're just making it easier."

The Caller's head shot up and lightning began to crackle in her hands. She went to hiss something at Flynn, but she never got the chance. Flying into action, Flynn sprang forward and, swinging her blade as fast and as hard as she possibly could, she lopped off The Caller's head. Wiping her blade clean on the fallen Caller's robe, she walked around the circular room, picking up three books titled The Last King of Ayleids, Night of Tears, and Fragment; On Artaeum. She thumbed through the pages, skimming the pages quickly. Finding a key on The Caller's body, she unlocked another door in the room to find an array of nice loot. Soul gems and enchanted objects littered the room, some scrolls and potions scattered about too. Since the Keep was clear, it was time to loot. Working backwards, Flynn picked the place clean, pilfering through everything she could find. She was pleasantly surprised by the array of alchemy reagents strewn in baskets and barrels. Eventually, Flynn found herself in the cells where the prisoners had been locked in, the place picked clean. She was double-checking the area to make sure that she hadn't missed anyone.

Boy, was she glad she double checked.

* * *

"And then what happened?" Haming asked, shaking her thigh vigorously. "Come on, Flynn! Tell us, tell us!"

"That, little cub, will be the story for tomorrow night."

A simultaneous groan swept around the room followed by complaints.

"Aw, come on, Flynn!" You can't just leave us hanging like that!" Ralof roared, dramatically flailing his arms in frustration.

"Oh, I believe I can." Flynn laughed. "I'll finish that story tomorrow, because right now I think it's time for little children to go to sleep so I can tell...other stories. Am I right?" Flynn eyed Sigrid, Eira, Carlotta, and Gerdur.

Eira seemed to get the hint first and nudged her son. "Aye, I believe so. Come on, Haming, it's time for bed."

"But, mom!" Haming whined, stomping his little foot.

"Haming, this isn't up for debate." Eira said to her son with a note of warning in her tone. "Come on, sweetie."

"Is it bedtime for me and Frodnar too? And Mila? Dorthe turned to Sigrid, who nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Gerdur, Carlotta, let's get our kids in bed."

Froki grumbled something and got up too, following behind Eira and his grandson. After Eira, Carlotta, Sigrid, and Gerdur returned, the night was filled with slightly more inappropriate stories, and other fun tales. The travelling mercenary shared tales of his own, lacking in luster in comparison to Flynn's but much funnier in a sense of miscommunication. It turned out the man had trouble with figuring out what people wanted done exactly, and so many of his stories ended up hilarious. Flynn's personal favorite was the one where he was sent to go "rough someone up" but had misread what his contracter wrote, thinking he was told to "tough them up" and subsequently taught them some sword techniques instead of kicking the crap out of them. She mostly liked the story because the guy noted that the man he'd taught sword techniques to (and later beat up) ended up becoming his husband. Soon enough, the first fingers of dawn started to probe the sky, and people began to turn in for the night. Eventually, it was only the Helgen squad (or so they were referred to as), Ysolda, and Carlotta hanging around, sitting around the fire.

"So, Flynn. Fellglow Keep. Leaving us hanging there was kind of a dick move. C'mon, finish the story! It's just us!"

"Yeah, and?" Flynn playfully elbowed Carlotta in side.

"Oh, come off it. We're like your siblings now, whether you like it or not. Spill! Who did you save this time!?" Alfhild demanded, slamming her mug on the table.

If Flynn was fair-skinned, she would've blushed at the flippant admission of a shared sibling-like relationship.

"Yeah! Listen to your sister!" Hadvar teased, shoving Flynn. "And your big brother!"

"Ha, you think you're the older one?" Flynn barked a laugh. "Yeah, okay. How old are you!?"

"32! How old are you!?"

Flynn paused, shrinking at the realization he was older than her. "...26. So, _maybe_ you're older than me. But, I'm more mature than you are, so there!"

"Hadvar, I've known you for a whole year. How did I not know you were 32?" Alfhild shook her head at herself.

Hadvar just shrugged and made an "I dunno" sound.

Eira suddenly got confused. "Wait, all that time ago when you were yelling at Ulfric about the Great War, you spoke like you'd fought in it. But, the war ended 26 years ago; you would've been a baby when it started."

Hadvar frowned at that. "I know. I didn't fight in it myself, but my mother and father did. I was quite literally born on the battlefield. When I was just a boy, I'd see dead people every day. That's why I was screaming about the body piles."

Flynn loudly blew a breath out at that. "Man, and I thought my childhood sucked."

Ysolda furrowed her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, we've all kind of shared about our home lives, but you haven't told us much, Flynn."

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck..._

Flynn clapped her hands at that. "So, Fellglow Keep. Here's who I saved!"

"You're avoiding the question-"

"-I _said_ Fellglow Keep!"

Yes, she was very glad she'd double checked, because in one of the cells, next to the many dead people, lied someone curled on the ground and barely breathing.

Her heart leapt to her throat and she felt an icy feeling wash over her at the realization that if she hadn't come back, she could've missed this person. Trying to steady her shaking fingers, she jammed the key The Caller had been carrying into the lock on the cell door she'd closed, all but ripping the door handle off of the cell door in her haste to reach the fallen man's side. He smelled horrible, but that was literally one of the last things on her mind as she took in how utterly mauled the man looked. He was covered in lacerations, bruises, and Gods knew what else, and he shivered miserably against the cold, stone floor.

Flipping him over as gently as she could, the man's eyes flew open and he gasped, looking wildly around his cell. His eyes landed on her, and he drew in breath so suddenly he began to cough. He scrambled away from her and pressed himself against the wall, his palm slamming against the stonework for purchase.

"No….No! Go away! _Leave me alone!"_ The man's voice cracked terribly.

He all but threw himself into the corner between the bars and the stone wall, pressing as far away as he could. Biting her lip, she reached out to him and tried to touch him to show she wasn't going to hit him. The flinch she got in response made her retract her hand, opting to approach him a lot slower. Slowly and cautiously she began to lean towards him. The closer she got, the tighter of a ball he curled himself into. By the time she placed a gentle hand on his head, he felt like a trembling human shaped stone. She kept her hand rested against his greasy head for awhile, waiting until he cautiously raised his head to look at her.

"See?" She called to him in her best quiet, soothing tone. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Liar," The man rasped, his body briefly wracked with coughs before he tucked his head back down.

Flynn frowned, thinking about what to do. Calling forth one of her stronger restoration spells, she let some of the warm light fall upon his head. He yelled aloud and cringed away quickly, before he seemed to realize that it didn't hurt and stared at the fading light in confusion. He looked around, probably for a way to escape. He began to stare at the open cell door. His eyes darting in between her and the open cell door, he suddenly lunged out of the cell, scrambling to his feet and trying to run away. He swayed to the left, collapsing against the brass levers nearby him before he collected himself, hobbling away as fast as he could. Eyeing his severely wounded leg, Flynn power-walked behind him, keeping him in sight as he desperately limped away. He only got up about half of the steps leading to the upper level of the Keep before his wounded leg gave out and he slammed his chin on one of the stairs. Crouching behind him, she watched him curl into a ball, waiting for a punishment. More coughs wracked his thin frame and he wheezed, gasping for breath.

"Alright, I'm not gonna lie," She patted his back, "that was kind of impressive. No, really, you got pretty damn far on a leg as fucked up as that one. Are you going to let me help you now?"

"Keep your filthy hands off me, you witch!" The man spat, the fear in his silver eyes taking the bite out of his words.

Pursing her lips, Flynn sprayed some healing magic over the man, who shouted in fear before looking confused again. She sprayed him with the magic once more, and once again, he shouted.

"Damn it, woman! Stop playing games with me and _just kill me already!"_ The man's voice broke as he shouted in frustration.

"I'm not gonna." Flynn frowned at the tears that began to trickle down his dirty cheeks.

She suppressed the urge to brush the hair from his face, opting to stay a safe distance away to not frighten him more.

"What do you _want_ from me!?" The man suppressed his own sobs as he screamed at her. "How long are you going to keep me in this gods forsaken place!?"

"I haven't kept you here."

"You expect me to believe that?!"

"Look around. There were a lot of other prisoners here. Where do you suppose they've all gone?" Flynn gestured downstairs.

The man looked around at the silent room, seeing the empty cells. His face went a ghostly white.

"You...you killed all of them?"

Flynn sighed, running a hand through her hair. "No. I let them go, dumbass. Think of all the mages who were here. Do I look like them? For Mara's sake, I'm wearing Ebony armor and I'm carrying two swords."

The man stared at her for a long, long time before he said, "You're...saving me?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"I'm...saved?" His voice began to sound weak.

"You are."

The man stared into her eyes for another minute or so, his arms trembling, until he passed out on the spot. Clucking her tongue, Flynn wormed an arm beneath his bony shoulders and hooked the crook of her elbow under his knees, lifting him easily. Judging by how light he was, he had been starved for awhile. She felt her heart ache for him, but she pushed the feeling away. Now was not the time to feel bad; she needed to take care of him first. Carefully making her way upstairs, Flynn look a left and exited the keep, making her way to a tiny pond that was to the left of the door. She unabashedly stripped the man's tattered, soiled clothes from his body, throwing the loin cloth to the side and incinerating the rest of the dirtied cloth. Grimacing at the grime and excrement smeared on his body, she carefully burned most of it away before she lowered him into the water, sending a silent apology to the fish swimming inside. Digging around in her bag, she found a block of soap and lathered it on an old rag, gently rubbing away all the dirt and gunk.

Once his body was clean, she doused his greasy hair with water, beginning to clean it gently. She scrubbed the faded war paint off of his face. Funny, he kind of looked like that man named Farkas she'd saved a while back. It wasn't him though; she distinctly remembered a thin scar running from Farkas's left shoulder to the bottom of his neck. The man below her leaned into her hands as they carded through his hair, massaging away all of the grease and grime. Brushing a hand on his cheek, Flynn felt how warm he was. Much too warm. Pressing her lips in a line, Flynn sighed. She'd have to stay with the man for a while in the Keep and heal him in portions. Judging by how severe some of his injuries looked, and how abnormally hot he felt, it'd probably take 3 or so days before he was able to go on the road with her.

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, wait. Hold on. What do you mean by you had to heal him in a drawn out period of 3 days? Your potions are incredible, and your restoration magic is okay. What was stopping you from just healing him all at once?" Ysolda suddenly cut her off.

"Ah, I didn't tell you!" Flynn suddenly realized.

"Tell us what?"

"So, I've travelled a lot. I've come across a lot of people who've realized I was a healer of sorts, and told me about how they'd been healed in the past while telling me how honorable my path was. Well, as I've heard these stories, I've noticed a trend."

"And this trend would be?" Carlotta egged Flynn on expectantly.

"Soldiers who were near death and nursed back to health were often healed in a matter of a few hours by some skilled healers, or some people have obtained devastating injuries only to have them healed very quickly and suddenly. Thing is, after being injured for awhile, I noticed that my body kind of adjusts to it. By suddenly healing something devastating all at once, I've kind of gathered that it shocks the body a little. Hence why so many soldiers still feel phantom pain from long past injuries, or miners have bad legs after nasty falls." Flynn explained.

With every word, Hadvar, Ralof, Alfhild, and Eira looked even more mind-boggled.

"That makes sense!" Alfhild gasped, leaping to her feet. "I nearly got my arm cut off awhile back and it was healed just fine, but it still hurts like a bitch every now and then!"

"That's why my hip hurts so often!" Hadvar slapped his hands to his cheeks. "Stendarr's mercy, I'm an idiot!"

"By Talos, you must be right! No wonder I get all of these headaches!" Ralof looked like he wanted to slap himself.

"I shattered my elbow back in 198," Eira rubbed her left elbow, "I got it healed, but it's never been the same."

Carlotta looked kind of bewildered and stared up at Flynn. "Well, I'll be damned!" She shook her head incredulously. "Now you've said it, it suddenly makes so much sense!"

"Flynn, you're so smart." Ysolda smiled, slugging Flynn on the shoulder before retracting her hand with a tiny "ow".

"See? That's why I had to heal him in a drawn out period. Can I continue?"

"Yeah, keep going."

"Okay, so…"

* * *

After the man was cleaned off, she lifted him from the water and cast her flame cloak spell to dry him off. She let him lay in the grass for a while, digging through her bag for some men's clothes she kept on hand in case one of her favorite travelling buddies, Marcurio, ever decided to tag along with her. She knew his clothes would be too big for the man, but it'd be far better than nothing. Finding the clothes and laying them out, Flynn quickly cleaned the man's loincloth in the water, once again apologizing to the fish silently. Once cleaned enough, she dried the loin cloth off with some destruction magic and slid it up the man's legs. She quickly clothed him and, flicking a lady bug off of his face, she scooped him up once more. She roamed around the fort for a while, deciding the room closest to the main exit would probably be the best place for him to stay. Laying him on the straw bed, she lit a bunch of candles by conjuring a flame on her finger to make the room nice and bright. It took a little huffing and puffing, but she managed to drag a half-decent alchemy lab into the room, and cleaned up a little. She pushed a bunch of loose rocks into the half-assed bathroom, tinkered with the wardrobe and dresser, and swept all the dust and grime out of the room.

Pleased with her handiwork, Flynn checked on her charge. He felt warmer than before. Frowning, she pulled a mudcrab chitin she'd ripped off a mudcrab earlier that day out of her bag along with some vampire dust she harvested from some dead vampires. Using her favorite mortar and pestle, she ground the ingredients together and dumped them in the green goop in the middle of the alchemy lab. There was a quick puff of red tinted smoke before the green slime began to bubble. The small furnace burned over. Tinkering with the flame, she set it on low heat, before turning it back up a few minutes later. A light red liquid condensed in the beaker above it. Pressure forced the light red liquid to the next chamber where it churned vigorously, spiralling to the alembic. She toggled with the churning speed, alternating between fast and slow, keeping a watchful eyes as the light, unrefined red liquid languidly dripped from the alembic into the green goop. Slowly, a bright red liquid congealed on the top of the slime, and Flynn watched a small bottle emerge from the green, the red liquid sucked into it. Ah, that was her favorite part of alchemy; watching the exchange. Plucking the bottle from the green slime, she trotted over to the man's side, gently waking him.

"Hey." She called, stroking his hair. "Wake up, hun. I gotta get some potion into you."

The man moaned and leaned to her hand, blearily opening his eyes. He looked around the room, looking like he had no idea where the fuck he was. He seemed to feel safe though, considering he didn't start screaming.

"Tilma?" He called out to her.

Oh. He was delirious. Fantastic. Well, better play along.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Flynn put on her best motherly tone, running his thumb along his cheekbone.

"I don't...feel good." The man coughed. "My head hurts, I can't think."

Flynn frowned, shushing him quietly. "I know. It's okay, I'll take care of you."

"M'kay…" The man muttered, his eyes slipping shut.

"No...c'mon, stay awake long enough to drink this, will you? It'll help you feel better." Flynn tilted the small bottle to his lips, rubbing his cheek to keep him conscious.

The man whined in the back of his throat but parted his chapped lips enough for Flynn to tilt the potion into his mouth.

"Tastes sweet…" The man mumbled once he'd drank it all, falling back asleep.

Sighing, Flynn ran a hand through her hair and pulled a chair by his bed. Digging around in her bag, Flynn withdrew her satchel full of her alchemy ingredients. She needed to make a salve to saturate some bandage strips in so the man could heal faster. Thinking, Flynn decided that while ingredients with a healing property were a no-brainer, she'd add some stuff that could restore stamina so he wouldn't feel so tired, and some ingredients that could cure any infection that could have festered in his untreated injuries. It took some consideration, but she chose vampire dust, another mudcrab chitin, some blisterwort, 6 or 7 blue mountain flowers, a honeycomb, 4 or 5 purple mountain flowers, a torchbug thorax, and she decided to lace some wheat into it. It took her a long time, but she managed to mash it all into a paste with the aid of a watered down healing potion. She rubbed the paste on some bandage strips before tying them around some of the man's more severe wounds. The man shifted in his sleep a little, but stirred no more. For a drawn out period of 3 days, Flynn healed him in portions. During the afternoon on the third day, he woke up and looked around.

"Hey," She called softly, touching his hand.

He jumped and looked over at her, looking frightened and then confused, narrowing his eyes a little.

"Are we coherent today?"

He seemed to consider her words for a minute and eventually rasped, "Kind of. I can't see."

"I know. It's the fever and infection. One of your eyes got pretty fucked up, so I have it covered right now." She explained. "The other eye just isn't used to being open right now and it's clogged up with gunk. Your vision is going to be blurry for a couple more days."

"Not permanent?"

Flynn chuckled quietly. "Of course not."

"Good," The man sighed in relief.

"Are you hungry, or thirsty?" Flynn asked, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Or both?"

"Both."

"Alright. I'll have to feed you like a child, sorry about that." Flynn shrugged. "You're probably too weak to lift your arms properly, much less without pain."

The man seemed kind of vaguely pissed off at this, but sighed, "Fair enough."

"Open your mouth. I've already got water here. Drink as much as you like, but slowly. I don't think you feel like throwing up water."

"I don't."

The man guzzled down half of her canteen and ate two bowls of some chicken soup she'd made by killing the asshole chicken outside of the keep before he fell back asleep. Deeming he was healed enough to be taken care of by the Priestesses of Kynareth, she began to pack up everything. Dumping the soup into another canteen (hopefully she could distinguish which canteen held the soup and which one held the water later), she smacked her alchemy ingredients into her alchemy satchel. Gods, was she glad that she'd splurged for a huge satchel to hold all of this. Collecting all of her candles, she threw those in her bag too, and soon enough she had everything packed up. Now, here was the convenient but completely ridiculous part...walking outside, she found a hand-pushed cart full of cabbages off to the side. Smiling, she took a minute to dramatically pick up each cabbage and hurl it at one of the crumbling stone walls before she wheeled the empty, covered cart into the fort. Retrieving her bedroll, she lined the wooden bottom of the cart with it along with other soft things before, while balancing the cart on her left hip, she gently lifted the man and placed him inside. His legs stuck out a little, so she bent his knees to force him into a fetal position before she donned her ebony armor, clipped her bag to her hip, swung her cloak over her neck, and pushed him out of the door.

It took 2 hours of pushing the man across the rocky tundra, but she got him to the big gates of Whiterun. Some guards took notice of her and called out for her to halt.

"What do you have there," The man looked her up and down and said, "Sir…?" with a note of confusion in his tone.

"Ma'am." She said, almost laughing but holding it back.

"Alright," The guard put hand behind his head and awkwardly rubbed his neck. "What do you have in there?"

"A man." She said simply. "He was being held hostage in Fellglow Keep, the big stone fort to the east of here. I cleared it out and freed a bunch of prisoners. He was the most injured, so I had to keep him there for awhile to allow him time to heal. I'm afraid I have to continue in my travels though, and he's in need of an actual half-decent bed."

The guard backed away and sputtered. "You! You're the woman who freed all of those people! Yeah, they came here just 3 days ago, and we've sent them home! We'll take it from here. I can't thank you enough, ma'am! You've done a great deed for our hold! Please, come with me to see the Jarl! I'm sure he'd love to know about this."

"I'm afraid that will have to wait, I have to move on."

"But-"

Flynn held up a hand and shook her head, silencing the guard. "Just make sure that man is taken care of. I'll return some other time. For now, I should go."

The guard sighed. "Very well, you can be on your way. Still, before you go, can I have your name?"

Thinking back to The Caller, Flynn decided to sound cool and said, "My name matters little. You may refer to me as the Ebony Maiden." And with that, she turned heel and walked away as the guard spluttered behind her at the recognition of her title.

* * *

"And that's the end?" Ralof asked, leaning forward.

"Yes."

"Y'know, we all heard about those prisoners from Fellglow Keep. We had no idea it was you." Hadvar shrugged. "In retrospect though, who else would it be? I can't think of anyone else in Skyrim who has as big of a death wish as you."

"Obviously you've never met any of the damn Companions." Carlotta elbowed Hadvar, taking a swig from her mug.

"Are you sure you've never met someone with a death wish as big as Flynn's?" Alfhild looked Hadvar in the eyes.

"Yeah."

"Are you _positive?"_

"Yes, I'm positive!"

Alfhild paused for a minute and, looking at each of her friends, said, "Then who the fuck did you meet in Helgen, because it sure as shit wasn't Ulfric Stormcloak!"

Oh, Flynn remembered this joke! She immediately reenacted Ulfric's shriek when that spider fell on him. Delphine jumped and blurted several curse words from across the room, followed by Eira spitting out her wine and laughing so hard she went red in the face. Ralof and Hadvar were next in joining in, falling over each other. Carlotta and Ysolda suddenly remembered Flynn telling the one story about Ulfric getting jumped by a spider and laughed too.

"Gods, Carlotta, Ysolda, you should've seen his face!" Hadvar roared with laughter.

Ralof imitated the face as best as he could, and Flynn just about fell out of her seat.

"I still can't look him in the eye without remembering and laughing whenever I go back to Windhelm," Alfhild wiped a mirthful tear out of the corner of her eye. "I don't think he's ever going to live that down."

"Me neither. I'm going to hold that above his head forever, and there's nothing he can do to stop me." Flynn huffed a laugh. "Except kill me."

"Ha! As if you can die. I have half the mind to think you're some sort of immortal daedra or some shit." Ysolda laughed, shaking her head.

"That's a legitimate theory, me 'nd Eira were discussing that the other day." Ralof nodded, trying and failing to hide a teasing smile.

"Oh, shut up. I could kill myself right now and prove you wrong."

"Don't do that, we like you." Eira muttered, slowly pulling Flynn's swords out of their sheathes. "Second thought, I'm just gonna take these…"

"Gimme my swords back, woman." Flynn rolled her eyes, plucking her swords out of Eira's hands and sheathing them.

Carlotta suddenly looked like she was deep in thought, and after a moment or two she looked at Flynn. "Hang on...you cleared out Fellglow Keep about 2 months ago, right? Because that was when all those prisoners came to Whiterun."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"That man you took care of...remember how you saved that man Farkas before you left to get stronger? Did the man you took care of look anything like him?"

"I….yeah. They had a strong resemblance, like I said earlier. The only difference is that Farkas had a scar from his shoulder to his neck, so it wasn't him."

Ysolda suddenly burst into laughter, realizing what Carlotta was getting at.

"Flynn, I think you saved Farkas's twin."

Flynn leapt to her feet. "I did!?"

"Yes! 3 weeks prior to when you returned him to Whiterun, he went missing! Gods, they were wheeling him into the city and Farkas was walking past. Oh, that poor man screamed like none other and couldn't stop crying. He was yelling for someone to get Danica, Kodlak, Skjor, or Aela." Carlotta told her, patting her on the arm.

"I was the one who ran and got Kodlak. He's the leader of the Companions, or something like it. He looked more frightened than I've ever seen him! It was kind of hot when he picked up Vilkas and started running, though." Ysolda giggled and blushed as Carlotta swatted at her.

"Douse that fire in your loins, woman!" Carlotta shook her head at Ysolda, before her expression morphed into one of sympathy. "Poor Vilkas, though. He looked so different. I can't imagine how Farkas recognized him immediately."

"Alright, so what I'm getting from this is that his name is Vilkas."

"Yeah."

"Is he okay? I never followed up on that."

"Yeah, he got back on his feet about 3 weeks after you brought him in. It would've been 2, but his friends fussed over him so much."

Flynn sighed in relief. "I'm glad he's alright, he had me a little worried. How are his eyes?"

"He can see just fine, he just has a scar from his left eye to his cheekbone. That's all. You did a very good job in healing him from what I heard. Danica and Arcadia were impressed with whoever had been healing him."

"I know who Arcadia is, but who's Danica? You've mentioned her twice."

"She's a priestess of Kynareth. Real sweet woman, and good friends with the twins from what I've seen. She was so concerned for Vilkas and, speaking of which, you should've seen how she fussed once Vilkas and Skjor brought Farkas back into the city! After you left and went on to become the badass Ebony Maiden, that is."

"How'd that go, anyway? How'd they find him?"

Ysolda and Carlotta shared a look at that and burst into laughter. "Oh, Skjor and Vilkas were _pissed_. Skjor is another Companion by the way, a war veteran. I don't think I told you who he was yet. Anyway, he's pretty kind, if not a little strict. Apparently, you went overkill with the wards, and the runes nearly killed Skjor." Ysolda shook her head, chuckling. "Farengar went to check out the wards and remaining runes actually. He was kind of impressed."

"Oh, really? Nice. I forgot the runes would hurt anyone breaching the area. Probably should've warned someone. How did the runes not kill him?"

"That's the funny bit. I don't think Skjor set it off. I think what happened is that there was a skeever that ran across one, setting it off right next to Skjor. Scared the Oblivion out of him, actually. I heard him yell from the whole other side of the city. I was wondering who in the name of Oblivion was screaming. It's a good thing the runes were set off though, otherwise they would've never found Farkas. The runes actually destroyed the majority of the wards. Apparently, they kept walking right past him!" Carlotta slapped Flynn on the shoulder, laughing. "From what I heard, they were wandering the tundra for 3 hours until they found him!"

Ale shot out of Hadvar's nose at that. "3 hours!?" He roared with laughter. "Oh, those idiots! Haha!"

"What I can't imagine," Eira huffed a laugh, taking a sip of her wine. "Is how Farkas slept through the runes exploding."

"He slept through the runes exploding!?" Alfhild looked bewildered at the mere prospect. "How in the name of Dibella's tits did he manage that?"

"I have no idea." Eira shook with laughter. "I think that's also what might've pissed Skjor and Vilkas off. Skjor had a near death experience and Farkas is just sitting there, snoozing like a fucking baby."

"Oh, yeah. I'd be pissed. Like, EXCUSE ME, I ALMOST DIED AND YOU'RE STILL NAPPING!" Carlotta laughed a little before she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Anyway, they brought him back in the city and Danica starting fussing almost immediately. I'm sure the Jarl's children must've come whining down the stairs about how they'd be woken up too early because of Danica if Skjor's scream hadn't woken them up already." Carlotta shook her head, suddenly getting a thoughtful expression on her face. Y'know, I don't think Farkas knew it was you that saved him. He was telling the story the other day, and he described you as a tall, beautiful Redguard woman with striking silver eyes and long, black hair. He never actually said your name."

Flynn paused at that. "Well, I'm flattered he thought I was beautiful. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever told him my name."

"Well, now would be a good time." Carlotta hummed.

"Why now?"

"Flynn, come on. You've been all over Skyrim. You've done so much, and you're so strong now. But, you've yet to step foot in Whiterun since all that time ago!" Ysolda threw her mug at Flynn to convey her frustration.

"I almost did when I saved Vilkas's ass!" Flynn weakly defended, rubbing the spot on her arm where Ysolda's mug had collided.

Ysolda, in turn, shot her a rather deadened expression. "Mhm, that's great. You still didn't come in the walls. Let go of that stupid grudge you have against Farengar already! Surely you're strong enough now!"

 _Not strong enough._

"I'm not strong enough." Flynn bowed her head a little, hunching her shoulders lest Ysolda steal Ralof's mug and throw it at her too.

"Lady! Come on! You are totally strong enough! You're just making excuses."

 _Not strong enough._

'Fuck, not now,' Flynn thought to herself, "come on, I'm in a good mood. Why now?'

 _Dirty basement walls. It was cold, so cold. She was cold, she was tired. Glass. A lot of glass; all shattered. In her arms, her leg, her head, her stomach, her everywhere. Musty, cold ground. Tears. Yellow light, warmth. She is weak. Weak little girl. Weak, weak, weak. She means nothing. She feels nothing. She is nothing. She is nobody. Nobody at all._

Suddenly, Ulfric's voice rang in her head. "Everyone is somebody."

 _Everyone is someone._

 _Dirty basement walls. She is nobody. No one at all. She does not matter. No one cares. She is no one._

 _Everybody is someone._

 _Dirty basement walls. She is all alone. There are glass shards all around her. They're thick enough to stab. Thick enough to kill. Thick enough to end it. She is nobody-_

 _SHUT UP! SHE IS SOMEBODY, GODS DAMMIT! SNAP OUT OF IT!_

Propelling herself back into reality, Flynn looked up to see her friends looking at her in concern. "Hey, you spaced out for a second there. You alright?"

 _No._

Flynn forced a smile on her face.

 _You fucking liar. Don't you dare. Say it. Stop being a coward. You are not fine._

"I'm good. I think I drank too much mead, I was just thinking about how I screamed at Farengar all that time ago."

 _Coward._

Ysolda sagged in relief. "Oh, thank Zenithar. I thought I'd offended you."

 _Get over yourself, Ishtar. Come on. You're not a weak little girl anymore. Give her what you know she wants._

"Nah, it's alright. I think you're right though. Maybe I should go back to Whiterun."

 _Good._

Carlotta and Ysolda visibly perked at that and starting laughing excitedly. "Oh! Gods be praised! Finally! You can walk with us and my daughter tomorrow!" Carlotta laughed, clapping her hands together. "Maybe we can hit the Inn and share a drink together! I'd love to show you around the city!"

"You can stay with me! Carlotta, don't make that face, I have an extra bed. You don't."

"Oh, shut up." Carlotta shook her head and rolled her eyes good-naturedly before yawning. "It's getting late, guys. We should probably turn in for the night if we don't want to wake up and have it be Sundas instead of Loredas."

"Good point, Carlotta." Ralof stretched his arms out, patting a dozing Eira on the cheek. "C'mon, let's get you home."

"Wha's goin' on?" Eira sleepily slurred, stretching out and rubbing her eye.

"We're all going home. C'mon, sleepy," Alfhild kicked Hadvar's chair out from under him.

"I wasn't sleeping!" He hissed sharply, rubbing his ass as he stood up.

"You were about to. Alright, I'm going home. Goodnight, guys."

"G'night, Alfhild." Ysolda yawned, shuffling to her room in the inn.

"I'll see you in the morning, Flynn. When I wake up, you better not have scampered off to, I dunno, Riften or something." Carlotta, playfully swatted Flynn on the shoulder before joining her daughter in her room in the Inn as well.

Damn, there went that plan. Flynn sat there alone for awhile, staring into the fire as she reminisced about the past. She wasn't sure what else she should do, other than sleep, which she didn't really want to do. Her body was screaming for rest, but her mind was not. And so, she just stared at the dancing flames, clenching and unclenching her fist.

"Hey, Flynn?" Orgnar called from the bar, startling her out of her own mind. "C'mere, lass."

"What is it, Orgnar?" Flynn asked, approaching the bar.

"Take a seat. Let's talk a little." Orgnar shrugged, lining the cleaned mugs on the shelf below the bar.

"What do you want to talk about?" Flynn sat at one of the barstools.

"You've spent a lot of time in Delphine and my bar. The way you froze like that a little bit ago before you agreed to go back to Whiterun wasn't like you. It wasn't...right. Are you sure you're fine?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it, Orgnar."

Orgnar looked up and his brown eyes pierced into her silver eyes for a long, long time.

"No."

"No, what?"

"Quit it. You're lying, and you know it. You're not fine."

He needed to stop doing that. Whenever she came to this Inn, he'd always stare at her, as if he were picking away every layer of her, trying to figure out who she was. He was a benevolent figure, always in the background but always standing out. He watched, she could tell. Fear began to prickle the back of her neck. Why was he able to read her as if she were letters on a page? Who even was he? Flynn clenched her teeth, feeling frustration and anger begin to boil underneath her skin. Who in the name of Oblivion was he to deem whether or not she was okay?!

"Orgnar, I am _fine._ F-I-N-E. You're just overthinking!"

Orgnar shook his head. "I know you. You're trying to cover how scared you are to admit it by feigning anger. Stop it, already. What's stopping you from admitting it?"

" _Shut up!"_ Flynn leapt to her feet, slamming her hand on the bar. "I-you! You have no idea what you're even talking about!"

He stared at her again, locking her, chaining her in place with his eyes. Damn his eyes. Damn it all. Damn it all to Oblivion.

"Flynn isn't even your name, is it?"

 **Please leave a review.**


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Flynn's hand still ached.

Eira shuffled in her bed and let out a small groan. Flynn heard the sound of rustling fabric as Eira presumably pulled herself into a sitting position. Flynn rolled over and watched in silence as Eira yawned loudly, cracked her back, rolled her shoulders, and sucked in a breath audibly. Eira winced and rubbed at her temples before she fumbled for something on her nightstand, most likely in search of the water her drunk self had probably left there. Flynn smiled; Flynn had put a fresh pitcher of cold water there a couple minutes ago, and left a healing potion too. Eira found the pitcher (after she nearly knocked it over) and chugged a lot of the water before gingerly sipping down the healing potion, muttering that her drunk self had been generous.

"Actually, I was the generous one." Flynn corrected as she pulled herself into a sitting position.

Eira screamed and threw the half-empty pitcher of water at Flynn's head on reflex, and subsequently drenched the wall and the top half of Flynn's shirt.

Eira clutched a hand to her chest and kicked in Flynn's general direction. " _Flynnigan!_ You scared the Oblivion out of me!"

Flynn shivered a little as the cold water trickled down her neck, but laughed nonetheless. "Sorry. Didn't think that'd startle you so much." She summoned a gentle flame into her palm and dried her shirt before she plucked up the pitcher Eira had hurled at the wall.

Eira furrowed her eyebrows and sat cross-legged on the bed. "Wait a minute, why did you break into my house again? I thought you were staying at the Inn since my father-in-law is in the open house."

" _Flynn isn't even your name, is it?"_

Flynn reflexively squeezed her fist tightly, and broke the handle clean off the pitcher. Looking between Eira and the pitcher for a moment, Flynn inconspicuously melted the handle back onto the pitcher, whistling innocently. Eira, instead of laughing at the humorous attempt, frowned deeply.

"Hey, whoa, what's going on? What's the matter?"

'Fuck, shit, it's too early for confrontation,' Flynn hissed in her head as her mind whirled in an attempt to find a way to weasel her way out of answering Eira honestly.

"Mama? Why are you screaming?" Haming called from the doorway, attracting Eira's attention.

Opening! Yes! Thank you, Haming! Flynn dove across the room, casting an invisibility spell.

"Oh, Flynn scared me again. Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Did I wake you up?"

Haming rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Yeah, it's okay though. How did Aunt Flynn scare you, though? She's not even here."

Eira looked confused, "What are you talking about? She's right-" Eira turned back around only to see the space Flynn had occupied empty. "-Not there." Eira sighed loudly, running a hand through her hair. "...Dammit. Woman! Where are you hiding!? I'm going to find you and now we're _actually_ going to talk! You can't hide from me forever!" Eira yelled, peering around the room.

"Mom, do you need to lay back down?" Haming asked with such a bewildered face that it nearly made Flynn laugh.

Eira shook her head, springing up from her bed. "That invisibility potion or spell is going to wear off eventually, and I'll hear the door opening if you try to leave!"

"Touching anything would break the enchantment anyway." Flynn rolled her eyes, the sound of her voice making Eira and Haming jump.

"Where are you!?"

Flynn crept across the room just as Eira passed her. "Now, why would I tell you that?"

Eira made a frustrated noise, swinging her arms around wildly in hopes of somehow managing to locate Flynn by hitting her.

"Y'know, I could just leave and run. And I'd succeed too, because you can't chase me to save your life, I'm too fast for you." Flynn teased while slipping behind Eira's kitchen table.

"If you could leave and run, why don't you!?"

"Because watching you swing your arms like a moron is very entertaining."

Eira whirled around just in time for Flynn's invisibility enchantment to wear off.

"...Gods damn it." Flynn muttered, sitting back on her haunches. "Good morning, Haming."

"Morning, auntie."

"Be a dear and go open the door for me, yeah?"

"Haming, if you open that door, I'm not buying you that book you want." Eira sent her son a warning look.

Flynn slowly rose to her feet, eyes darting between Eira and the door. "If you open the door, I'll buy you _three_ books, Haming."

Haming looked his mother in the eye and slowly opened the door.

"Thanks, you filthy enabler!" Flynn dodged Eira's hands as she darted out the front door. "Bye Haming, love you!"

Eira tore off in pursuit of Flynn, who was horrified to find that her friend was a little faster than she'd anticipated. However, it wasn't fast enough and Flynn was still able to get away by pushing Eira into the river while the townsfolk made bets. In other word, Flynn was a-

"You _cheater!_ Get back here!"

Ralof rushed over and pulled Eira out of the river. "Flynn, that was a low blow!"

"Shut up and let me evade confrontation!" Flynn scrambled up the wooden pole that supported Alvor's forge while she yelled over her shoulder.

"Get off of the roof, girl!" Alvor yelled, brandishing his hot iron rod at her.

Flynn swung her head underneath the ceiling, peering at Alvor. "No."

"You're going to make the ceiling collapse!"

"Alvor, you can pick me up and snap me in half like a twig. I'm not heavy enough to make this break!"

Alvor grumbled, cooling the iron rod. "I suppose you're right. What's this all about, lass?"

"Eira is trying to make me talk about my feelings."

Alvor huffed a laugh at the bluntness. "And here I was thinking you didn't have any of those, save for spite."

"Can't forget the unadulterated rage."

"Aye, there's that too. Stay up there if you like, but it's not my fault if Eira starts throwing rocks at you."

"Alvor, don't encourage her!" Sigrid whipped at her husband's behind with her towel.

"If she doesn't want to talk, she's not gonna. You know how stubborn she is." Alvor defended himself, holding up his hands in surrender.

"And let's be real; that woman has no emotions, she's some sort of daedra or something." Sven barked a laugh as he passed.

"You've got me there, Sven."

A rock suddenly flew out of nowhere, smacking Flynn right in the nose. Startled, Flynn scrambled for purchase and heaved herself back on Alvor's roof.

" _You!"_ Eira hissed, stomping her foot. "Get down here! Stop trying to hide yourself behind humor!"

"You're not my mom, Eira!"

"I might as well be, since _yours_ did a shitty job with you!"

Flynn froze, frowning. "Yeah, you have no idea," Flynn muttered, rubbing her knees.

"What was that?!" Eira yelled up at her.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Ha, as if! I heard you mutter something!"

Lie, lie, lie! "I called you a bitch!"

Eira wasn't buying it. "I didn't hear anything that sounded remotely like the word 'bitch', Flynn!" Eira sagged, leaning her weight on one leg and crossing her arms. "Get off of there, would you?"

Flynn rolled her eyes and decided she'd been childish for long enough. She leaned forward, sliding off of the roof and landing in front of Eira. Shockwaves of pain shot up her ankles briefly as she landed, but quickly faded. Sigrid clucked her tongue, brushing stray bits of straw from Flynn's back.

"Thanks, Sigrid." Flynn turned to eye Sigrid appreciatively.

Sigrid felt Flynn's sides, and frowned deeply at the nearly protruding bones. "You need to eat more, miss."

Flynn shrugged indifferently. "I eat enough."

Sigrid tapped at Flynn's ribcage. "Clearly not. I'll fix you some venison stew. I know it's your favorite."

"Sigrid, you don't have to do that." Flynn exasperatedly shook her head.

"I insist. Go on and hang out with your friends." Sigrid strode back into her house, passing Dorthe as she exited.

"Hey, Dorthe."

Dorthe's face brightened as she caught sight of Flynn. "Hi! Are you going to finish the story tonight?"

Flynn blanked for a moment. What story? Fellglow Keep rang in her mind and Flynn snapped her fingers in remembrance.

Awkwardly finger-gunning Dorthe, Flynn said, "I'm afraid not, little lass."

Dorthe frowned. "Aw! Why not?"

"I promised Carlotta and Ysolda I'd go back to Whiterun with them today." Flynn admitted, before she got an idea to get Eira off her back. "If you want to know, why don't you ask Eira here? She knows."

"Flynn, you-!"

Dorthe bounced on her heels. "Ooh, ooh! Eira, tell me!"

Eira frowned at Flynn viciously. "This isn't over, Flynn. Talk to me later."

"Good luck with that, Eira." Flynn sassed to Eira, mockingly mimicking Eira's disgruntled expression.

Eira strengthened her expression briefly before laughing, Flynn following. "You're so damn stubborn."

"What can I say? It's my trademark."

"I'll tell Dorthe and the rest of the kiddies the rest of the story. We're going to talk later, though."

Flynn huffed. "Pfft. As if. Next thing you know, I'm going to be in Riften."

"Carlotta would hunt you down for me."

Flynn snapped her fingers, frowning exaggeratedly. "Guess I'll have to settle for Markarth!"

By early afternoon, Flynn had successfully evaded Eira, eaten some Venison stew that Sigrid had nearly forced down her throat, and was preparing to make her way across the tundra with Ysolda, Carlotta, and Mila. And so, she was donning her armor. Y'know, so they'd look cool. Not because Flynn was going to make a dramatic entrance into Dragonsreach and rub her achievements in the Jarl's face (who had been less than pleased with her dramatic exit over a year ago, or so had said a very strongly worded letter from his steward). And totally not because she wanted to impress Eorlund, who she'd kind of missed despite their brief encounter.

"Flynn, you're acting ridiculous." Carlotta sighed. "You don't need to wear your armor in the city!"

"Yes, I do. Plus, it'll make you all looked super cool when you walk in the city flanking the Ebony Maiden herself. Mila, wouldn't you love that?"

Mila bounced on her heels. "Yes, yes, yes! I bet Braith wouldn't even so much as poke me!"

"See? She loves the idea."

Carlotta pursed her lips.

Ysolda shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Turning her own kid against her. Dirty move, Flynn. Dirty, dirty."

Flynn slapped her own shoulder, assuring that her armor was on nice and tight. "Alright, ready to go."

"Oh, finally. I was wondering if we would depart in time for dinner." Carlotta rolled her eyes. "Let's go."

"Where'd this bruise on your cheek come from, Orgnar?" Delphine's voice floated across the Inn as Flynn made her way to the door.

"I slipped on some spilt ale and hit my face on the bar." Orgnar said lamely, pouring some mead into a mug for a patron.

Delphine wasn't convinced, and said, "Are you sure? These looks vaguely like knuckles."

Flynn left the Inn before she heard whatever Orgnar said in response.

"So." Eira's voice sounded from behind Flynn.

Flynn audibly sucked in a breath, nervously smiling (though Eira couldn't see it). "Heyyyy…" Flynn shot some more awkward finger guns.

Eira cocked her hip and quirked an eyebrow imploringly. They stood there in pregnant silence while Hadvar and Ralof laughed at them in such a way that could only be described as manly giggling. Alfhild joined Eira's side and mimicked Eira's stance before dramatically thrusting a finger towards Flynn.

"This isn't over! Next time, we will pry your lips open ourselves if we must!"

"Which lips?" Flynn suddenly blurted.

Hadvar and Ralof dissolved into louder laughter at the raunchy joke while Alfhild sagged and tried to hide a laugh. Eira sighed loudly, shaking her head.

"You're gonna get it, girl."

"More like get _some!"_ Ralof blurted, bursting into somehow even louder (and idiotic) laughter with Hadvar.

Dorthe's voice carried from the forge as she asked Alvor, "Daddy, Uncle Ralof said Flynn's going to get some. What does that mean?"

Ralof froze and slowly turned with a shit-eating grin on his face towards Alvor, who was fiercely glaring at him. "Good luck explaining that one, Alvor."

Alvor shook his head. "You're all lucky those jokes still fly over her little head.

Flynn laughed a little, striding up to Eira and hugging her tightly. Whispering low enough that only Eira could hear, Flynn said,

"Maybe I'll talk next time."

"That's a damn lie and you know it."

"It is."

Eira scoffed. "Of course. Listen. You're allowed to talk to us and tell us heavy shit. We're your friends for a reason."

"I know."

"Clearly, you don't." Eira touched Flynn's armored shoulder, stroking the metal thoughtfully with a troubled expression. "Just come home safe, would you? Send more letters."

"I'll visit as often as I can."

"As you were, then. Goodbye, Flynn. Love ya."

"Love you too. Goodbye."

Flynn hugged her friends and waved to the townsfolk of Riverwood before she crossed the cobblestone bridge, her friends and Mila at her side. Eira sighed, leaning back against Ralof.

"What's troubling you?"

Eira stared ahead at Flynn's departing back with a frown. "I just….wish she'd stop saying goodbye as if she meant it truly."

Ralof hummed in understanding, squeezing Eira's shoulder. "We all do, love."

Flynn sighed, listening to the rushing river to her right. Mila trotted next to her while Carlotta and Ysolda chatted idly about inane things like their sales and the hot guys they were sure Flynn would like in the city. Listening to them half-heartedly, Flynn inwardly snorted. All Carlotta and Ysolda could think about were dudes for her; did they ever consider that a nice lady was a viable option? Pussy was just as good as dick, both of which she'd gotten a handful of times since her arrival in Skyrim. Not that she was going to tell them that; that'd give them something else to antagonize her over. Still, the last woman she'd been with had really been something. Rikke had been her name, and while she'd been a tough nut to crack, Flynn's silver tongue had wooed her to a bed and also done...other things. Man, had she had a nice ass. Mila looked questioningly up at Flynn when Flynn began to chuckle. Noticing Mila's inquisitive look, Flynn waved her off.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart." she answered Mila's unasked query before, on a whim, she stooped down and plucked Mila up from the armpits.

She plopped Mila on top of her shoulders. Mila giggled, swinging her feet.

"Mama, look at how high I am!" She stretched her arms out. "I bet I could touch the sky from up here!"

"I think you'd need to be just a little higher for that, sweetpea." Flynn laughed, prodding Mila's shoe with her gauntleted hand.

"Aww! Oh! I can see Dragonsreach from here!"

Travelling across the tundra took about an hour (mostly occupied by Mila chattering away), but soon enough the stables came into view.

"Oh, I think the Khajiit are here! I wonder what Ri'saad has to sell?" Ysolda tittered excitedly.

However, coming up to the Khajiit, it wasn't Ri'saad's caravan.

"Ahkari?" Flynn frowned in confusion. "What are you doing near Whiterun? I thought you went between Dawnstar and Riften."

"Ah, it is our most favored company." Ahkari purred, a smile stretching on her lips. "It is good to see you, Flynnigan. To answer your query, Ri'saad is having us change the routes so our wares get around more."

"I see, good to know. I do prefer your caravan anyway, Ahkari. It's very nice to see you , my fine fuzzy friends." Flynn kissed Kharjo and Ahkari's cheeks in greeting, leaving Zaynabi and Dro'marash alone to cook in peace. "How have sales been going?"

"Most excellently. However, another draws my attention. The girl is Ysolda, yes?"

"Yes, that'd be me." Ysolda looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

Ahkari bent down and kissed Ysolda's hand. "I have heard much about you. It is a pleasure to meet you face to face."

"Oh!" Ysolda gasped happily, shuffling her feet with excitement.

Flynn and Carlotta exchanged a look before turning back to Ysolda. "Ysolda, knock yourself out. We'll be up in the city if we're needed."

Flynn bent her knee forwarded and bowed her head, extending a "goodbye" to the Khajiit, and promised to return later with food and some money to buy something. With that, she turned heel and strode towards the city gates. Here went nothing.

"I didn't know you were friends with the Khajiit, Flynn!" Mila giggled excitedly from atop Flynn's shoulder.

Flynn was a little startled; she'd almost forgotten Mila was still up there. Flynn briefly wondered how Mila hadn't fallen off when Flynn had bowed to the Khajiit. A guard passed them, looking up inquisitively at the sound of Flynn's name.

"Hush. Don't say my name so near the city."

"Oops. Sorry, Flynn," Mila attempted (and failed) to whisper, patting Flynn's visor in apology.

Resisting the urge to shake her head (doing so might dislodge Mila from her shoulders), Flynn walked to the main gate, flanked by Carlotta. The guard at the front dropped his dagger and sharpening rock upon seeing her.

"Y-You! It's you again! I remember you!" The guard cried, scrambling towards her.

"Ivar, what are you blabbering about?" The other guard by the gate called to her friend.

"Hilde, this is the woman I was telling you about the other day! The Ebony Maiden! The one who freed all of the prisoners from Fellglow and brought one of our Companion's back home!"

The female guard, Hilde, sounded dubious as she said, "Are you sure it's her? I know it's expensive, but anyone could wear ebony armor."

The male guard, Ivar, looked up at her. "If it really is you, speak. I remember your voice as if it were yesterday."

Flynn smiled beneath her visor, and echoed the last words she'd said to this guard, "My name matters little. You may refer to me as the Ebony Maiden."

Ivar laughed incredulously, putting his hands on his head. "You've truly come back! It's an honor, truly it is! I've heard so much about you."

"I'm flattered to know tales of me have travelled throughout the land." Flynn laughed lightly. "It's almost embarrassing. I've finally decided to come back to Whiterun after all this time."

Ivar grasped her hand. "Please, you must come up to Dragonsreach with me. The Jarl has waited for your return to reward you properly for freeing all of those prisoners and bringing our Companion back home."

"I suppose I ought to. I bet his jaw will fall off when he sees who I am."

Flynn turned to Carlotta, who waved her hand and said, "Go on, then. Give me my baby, and be on your way, oh mighty warrioress. And don't go running off on me either, or I'll kick your ass when I find you holed up in Solitude or someplace."

Sighing, Flynn flicked Carlotta on the forehead before handing Mila to her. "You're ruining my plans, Carlotta."

"I know. Now you can't flee to either Riften or Solitude."

"You've deliberately picked my favorite Holds."

"Aye, that I have."

"Fuck you, Carlotta." Flynn shook her head, huffing a laugh before following Ivar into the city.

"So, uh...you're friends with Carlotta?" Ivar asked, looking back at her over his shoulder.

"We've been friends for about as long as I've been in Skyrim, actually."

"I bet she thinks you're really amazing."

"Nah, not really. She knew me before I was, well, y'know, Ebony Maiden. And she's seen me spectacularly smash my face against a tree after I tripped in an uncoordinated tipsy stupor, so I don't think I'll ever be anything remotely close to "amazing" in her eyes."

Ivar burst into surprised laughter, trying desperately to stifle it and failing miserably.

"It's alright to laugh at that." Flynn reassured as she frowned behind her helmet. Some laughing wasn't going to offend her or anything.

Ivar shook his head saying, "I would've never expected that to happen to you."

"You'd be surprised at how utterly stupid I can be sometimes."

"Aye, I believe I would be."

They walked in silence for a minute before Ivar spoke once more.

"Forgive me for sounding so fanatical, but just...you're you. I've heard so many stories about you, I can't help but be awed." Ivar apologized, rubbing the back of his helmet.

"It's alright, I am met with that a lot. All the attention makes it so much nicer when I take off armor and walk around without getting gawked at."

"I'm sure all that attention must be exhausting."

"It is. I've never been one for dancing in the limelight, but it seems to enjoy finding me." Flynn shrugged. "It's very relieving to walk without the ebony armor and be treated normally."

"Personally, I think I'd enjoy the attention, but then again, I'm not you. I have no idea what all that reverence must be like."

"Some may relish it, but I find it distasteful. It's much nicer to be treated normally than like a god, because you're the only one who knows that you aren't anywhere close to that."

"Huh. I guess you're right. All that expectation is stressful, isn't it?"

"Believe me, it is. At least I don't normally disappoint."

Ivar barked a laugh. "Aye, you don't! I've heard tales of your wisdom, can't say I'm disappointed at all."

"My wisdom?"

"Yeah, your wisdom. Haven't you heard the stories people tell about how brilliant you are?"

Flynn frowned at that. "No, actually. Mostly I hear about myself obliterating everything with my sword and destruction magic, or how I demolished those bandits invading Falkreath while piss drunk with my helmet on backwards, and then how I made some sort of demented summoning circle with their corpses with my helmet _still_ on backwards, laid in the middle, and slept for 27 hours straight and no one could move me because the daedra I'd somehow managed to summon kept them away from me. Funnily enough, me and that daedra are friends now."

"Really? A mortal and a daedra as friends?"

"Yeah. His name's Kaizorich. He's pretty cool, and a lesser daedra, so the most he can do is have a catfight with me."

"You're not even pulling my leg, are you? So, that story's true? I've always wondered if it was."

Flynn narrowed her eyes behind her visor, sighing heavily. "I am ashamed to admit that it is. Tell you what, I was confused as all Oblivion when I woke up, covered in dried blood and pee, surrounded by corpses, with my helmet _still_ on backwards."

Ivar laughed incredulously, turning back to gawk at her behind his helmet. "You must be a fun drunk, eh?"

Flynn shrugged, making an "I dunno" noise. "Don't ask me, I can't remember any of the shit I do when I'm drunk."

"Poor alcohol tolerance?"

"Actually, no. I have fantastic tolerance; either I get delightfully tipsy, or I take one too many sips and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in Markarth in the temple of Dibella, my hand still on Dibella's tit, with a priestess yelling at me for trashing the place. There is no in-between."

Ivar tried desperately to stifle his laughter but utterly failed. "Please tell me that isn't a true story."

"I'm ashamed to admit that story is also true."

"Maybe I should party with you sometime."

"Eh, maybe. I'm apparently a very, very fun drunk. But, like I said, I dunno for sure."

"You sure sound like it. Well, here we are."

Flynn started a little, looking at the looming doors of Dragonsreach. She'd been so caught up in conversation she hadn't noticed they'd arrived.

"Should I come in with you?" Ivar asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, you'll probably want to see this," Flynn felt her lips pull into a grin.

Time to go be a dick to the Jarl.

The doors of Dragonsreach opened with a mighty bang, making Gerda to look up. Her eyes landed on a woman clad in ebony and a town guard, and all she could think to say was,

"Don't track your dirty boots on my clean floor!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Gerda," Flynn muttered as she passed Gerda, stifling laughter at the odd expression Gerda gave her.

She still looked rather peeved, but she said, "You sound familiar. Have we met, ma'am?"

"We have. I'll chat with you later, Gerda. I have business to attend to."

"Well, you certainly look like it," Gerda sniffed in disdain, getting back to sweeping to floors.

Ivar looked at Flynn for a moment before ascending the stairs ahead of him, prompting Flynn to follow by inclining his head. Flynn and Ivar approached the throne, where Balgruuf was conversing quietly with Irileth. Upon their arrival, the Jarl quieted and straightened himself.

"My Jarl," Ivar stooped into a deep bow, "it is with great excitement that I present to you this ebony clad woman."

"Guard," Balgruuf nodded to Ivar, "why have you brought this woman before me?"

"I am sure you have not forgotten about the prisoners who were freed from Fellglow Keep, around the 13th of Frostfall, much less our beloved Companion, who was brought home."

"I should hope not. What does that have to do with this woman?"

Flynn had the profound urge to tell Balgruuf to pull his head out of his ass, but- just barely -held her tongue.

"My lord, can't you see? I present to you, the Ebony Maiden, the great heroine who released those captives from Fellglow so long ago and has brought joy to our fine country with tales of her glory and wisdom."

Ivar's voice sounded almost mocking in a friendly sense. Realizing he was completely exaggerating, Flynn swatted his arm gently.

"I'm not that amazing, Ivar."

Jarl Balgruuf held up his hand at the sound of her voice. "Wait, that voice…" He trailed off before he shook his crowned head. "No, it can't be, you wouldn't be her."

"Who?" Flynn asked, shifting her weight onto one leg.

"A woman I used to know. Still, she must be dead by now. It's of no matter, simply a trifle long past. She wasn't that important anyway."

 _She wasn't that important anyway._

For some reason, Flynn's heart ached slightly at that. "Dead, you say?"

"Yes. She left my hold long ago, and hasn't returned since. Fiery young lass with a sharp tongue, perhaps too sharp. Can't say I mourn her loss that much."

Flynn sucked in air sharply and screwed up her face, feeling her fist tighten. 'Fuck you, Balgruuf,' she hissed in her head. Keeping her voice steady, she said,

"And why would that be?"

"She insulted me and my judgement rather vehemently, and made a scene while leaving. Call me conceited, but I didn't appreciate her comments."

"Maybe you deserved them." Flynn snapped, crossing her arms.

The Jarl looked at her for a long time, but slowly nodded. "Perhaps I did. I wasn't exactly patient with her."

"Didn't you ask her in the dragon attacking Helgen was a Stormcloak raid gone awry, and proceeded to send her on a mission bound for death in a Nordic tomb with little to no warrior experience?" Flynn asked slowly, trying and failing to hide the bitterness in her voice.

Ivar looked over at her in confusion, but the Jarl laughed heartily as if it were funny to him. Perhaps it was. Scratch that, it definitely was. Nothing more than a _trifle._ Her fists tightened even more, her ebony-clad fingers digging into the mesh covering her palm.

"Aye, that I did. I got quite the tongue lashing from both her and Eorlund for each incidence." The Jarl paused at that, frowning in thought. "How did you know about that?"

Flynn didn't speak for a long moment, before she unclasped her helmet and pulled it from her head. Black hair in a tight braid cascaded to her lower back, and her silver eyes pierced the Jarls.

"If you thought I was dead, I'm afraid you're not that lucky." She spat.

The Jarl went ghostly pale, realizing what he'd said about her right in front of her. "I-I...you're alive! You're the Ebony Maiden!" He sputtered, rising to his feet. "You haven't come back to my city in so long, I'd assumed you'd perished. I should've known it was you; still as tall as ever I see!" He said quickly, trying to distract from his words.

 _She wasn't that important anyway._

Flynn didn't say anything. Her gaze never wavered as she peered down at the Jarl coldly.

Jarl Balgruuf was at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, "I-I...well...It's good to have you back in my city." The Jarl nodded. "Welcome back."

"Welcome?"

The Jarl closed his mouth, clasping his hands together nervously. He didn't say anything.

"I don't think I was ever welcome."

Taking a deep breath, Flynn sent the Jarl a mock salute and stuffed her hair into her helmet before shoving it on her head. She whirled around and walked out the door, Ivar stumbling close behind her. The descended the steps leading to Dragonsreach in silence before Ivar spoke.

"So, I take it you and the Jarl have history?"

"Yes, we do," Flynn answered Ivar. "Are you surprised?"

"About a lot of things, actually. Redguard, huh?"

"Yeah. Bet you were expecting some big, scary Nord lady."

"Matter of fact, I was."

"Everyone does."

Chuckling bitterly, she found her feet edging her towards Jorrvaskr. It'd be nice to see Eorlund again.

 _She wasn't that important anyway._

Her lips pulled into a frown. No, seeing Eorlund would be stupid. He probably didn't even remember her anyway.

"You, uh...didn't even get rewarded by the Jarl."

"I wasn't expecting a reward."

Flynn could picture Ivar frowning as he said, "You certainly deserve one."

"I don't feel as if I do."

Ivar sighed, laughing. "You heroes and your selflessness. Well, I suppose I've already escorted you. I better get back to duty before I'm missed."

"I suppose. Have a good day, Ivar."

"I'll try. You have a good day too, ma'am."

 _She wasn't that important anyway._

"Wishful thinking," Flynn shook her head, clasping Ivar's hand and shaking it.

"Bah, don't say that. Don't you let one rotten apple spoiled the bunch!" Ivar called over his shoulder as he walked away.

Flynn didn't respond, simply standing in place for all of thirty seconds. People flitted past her, talking and giggling with their friends. The water in the canal gurgled happily as it roiled along. The marketplace bustled down the stairs to her left, the smell of meat, sweets, bread, and flowers wafting through the air. The dead tree towered over her, a priestess clad in orange robes seated on a bench in front of it. Heimskr screamed on and on about tyrannical elves in front of Talos as half-interested passerby idly listened. Children ran around the tree and barrelled into the townguard's legs as they went careening past, all of them screaming and laughing without a care to spare. It was almost strange to be in a city filled with so many people. People strolled past her, taking second glances as they went along.

She felt cramped, overwhelmed even, but at the same time she felt utterly alone.

It felt as if she didn't belong.

 _Do I...belong anywhere?_

To others, that strangely empty feeling in her chest would feel disconcerting, but it was depressingly familiar to her. Sighing, Flynn walked down the steps down to the marketplace, feeling heavy and like she stuck out like a sore thumb. People ran past her, pointing fingers and whispering her title. The title that was everything she was, and everything she wasn't. She waded her way through the crowd, entering the busy Inn. A woman Flynn vaguely remembered as Hulda looked up at her entrance, calling out that it was nice and warm inside. Flynn made her way to the counter.

"Hey, could I get a room?"

"Single, double, or shared?"

"Single, please."

"That'll be twenty septims, ma'am,"

Flynn dug a coin purse she knew had about 90 gold pieces in it. She fished out thirty pieces, handing them to Hulda.

"I said twenty, silly woman." Hulda teased lightly as she leaned on the counter.

"The extra ten is a tip." Flynn shrugged.

Hulda looked pleasantly surprised, pocketing the gold. "Ah, I've got a polite one. Good! Well, follow me. I'll show you to your room."

Flynn nodded in assent and followed behind Hulda, smiling wryly at how small the older woman looked in comparison to her.

"Say, you wouldn't be that Ebony Maiden I've heard all these tales about?" Hulda asked over her shoulder.

"Unfortunately, yes. Bask in my glory, peasant." Flynn joked, holding her arms up in a mock display of power.

Hulda outright laughed, shaking her head. "Well, it's an honor to have you in my Inn. Don't break anything, though. Here's your room, and the key. Room's yours for a day, unless you pay me for another night."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Hulda nodded, pressing an old, steel key into Flynn's hand before walking back down the hallway. Flynn stared down at the key for a very long time, not moving at all before she slowly shoved it into the lock. Unlocking the door to the room, Flynn tossed her bag on the ground. The bag made a dull thump as it collided with the ground, all the glass bottles inside jangling against some stray weapons and clinking together quietly. Rolling her shoulders, Flynn figured it was due time to take off her armor. It took a lot of wriggling and twisting, paired with a lot of unclasping, but she managed to get her armor off, throwing it against the wall. She listened in muted delight as it made a horrible bang against the wall and someone on the other side yelped in alarm before cursing loudly. Chuckling quietly, Flynn flopped on the soft bed clad only in her brassiere and lady briefs. Sighing, she scrubbed her face, considering whether or not she should let her hair loose. Sitting up, Flynn opted not to and let her bare feet touch the ground.

She stood up and began to stretch, feeling several joints pop. Dripping deeply from the pitcher of water left on the nightstand, she rummaged through her bag in search of some decent clothes. She pulled on some pants, a loose, white shirt, and a pair of buckled, ankle-high shoes. Wiping herself down with the remaining water in the pitcher with a soft cloth, Flynn fixed her braid and made herself look somewhat presentable. Sighing, she sat on the chair next to her bed, staring at the wall for what felt like forever. 'Should I go see Eorlund? Maybe it'd be nice to say hello, even if he doesn't know who I am. I liked him.' Flynn mused to herself, tilting her head to let her neck crack. 'Maybe I could check on both Vilkas and Farkas while I'm over there. See how they're doing.'

 _She wasn't that important anyway._

Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Flynn knew she was being ridiculous. Ever since Orgnar had talk to her last night she'd just been so….well, that wasn't important now, was it? No one could really tell anyway, or so she hoped, at least. The Jarl could eat his words for all she cared, and either way, she was pretty okay. She was in Whiterun, not in Riverwood. Not staring into Orgnar's deep, brown eyes as he made her feel so…

 _Vulnerable._

The word left a terribly acrid taste in her mouth. Wrinkling her nose, Flynn shook herself, pushing all her thoughts far into the back of her mind. Slapping her own cheeks, Flynn rose to her feet and donned her long, black cloak. Eyeing the small holes along the bottom of it, Flynn frowned. She'd need to sew it back into it's former glory sometime soon. She pushed the buttons through the slivers in the fabric, pulling the hood outside of the fabric. She went to leave before she backtracked, stuffing a finely sharpened elvish dagger into her boot and clasping her bag on her hip again. Better safe than sorry. She didn't glance at anyone as she left, and no one glanced at her (even though she towered over literally everyone). It was almost weird to suddenly be utterly invisible again. It was nice too. Perhaps she should leave her armor off more often. It'd be good for her.

"Did you hear? Apparently, the Ebony Maiden has come here! She's even staying in this Inn!" An excited teenage girl tittered to her uninterested companion.

"So? Whatever, she's probably not that amazing." The teenage girl's companion, a boy of similar age, commented, sniffing.

"What makes you say that?" The girl furrowed her eyebrows, leaning towards him.

"Uhh, she's a girl?" The boy listlessly picked at a scab on his arm.

Flynn frowned, striding near the table.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" The girl demanded hotly, leaping to her feet in outrage.

"It's just how it is; girls are always weaker than boys."

Smiling to herself, Flynn got an idea. Flicking a small blue light towards the girl, and a small orange one, she bended the girls will slightly and whispered into her head, 'punch him with all your strength' before breaking the charms and watching. The girl wasted no time in drawing back her fist and hurtling a nasty left hook on the boys cheek. The boy reeled back as the girl looked surprised, gaping at her hand.

"What the _fuck,_ Angie!?" The boy yelled, swatting at his friend.

'Angie' looked at her hand, and back up at her friend, a giddy grin breaking out on her face. "Girls aren't that weak, are they, Marcus?"

'Marcus' rubbed his nose, cracking his jaw. "Apparently. Dibella's tits, you can throw a strong punch!"

"No hard feelings?" Angie asked her friend, shyly holding out a hand to him.

"You put me in my place. No hard feelings." Marcus nodded, taking her hand.

Flynn huffed a laugh, shaking her head as she walked out the tavern. Skyrim people and their roundabout way of bonding and ass-backwards displays of supposed friendship would never cease to amaze her. She pushed her way through the throngs of people in the marketplace, waving at Fralia Gray-Mane. Fralia looked confused at the wave and waved back in a questioning fashion. Flynn just shook her head and made her way upstairs, taking a right at the dead tree. She stared up at Dragonsreach as it seemed to loom above her for a long moment, frowning. Shaking her head, she crossed the threshold of Jorrvaskr, gazing at the wooden doors. Sighing, she left the doors alone and walked towards the Skyforge. Hearing the racket of two people sparring, Flynn peered around the wooden wall to see two people who looked like a copy of each other going at it with a warhammer and greatsword.

They looked awfully familiar, and after a heartbeat it clicked that the two men were Farkas and Vilkas. Her eyes landed on the twin with shorter hair. Ah, that was Vilkas, she was sure of it. She smiled a little; Vilkas had made a great recovery. It was nice to see some meat on his bones. Flynn shook her head, deciding it was stupid to bother them in the middle of a sparring match. She'd save them for later when she could properly inconspicuously inspect them to make sure they were alright. Inwardly, she cursed herself for caring so much for two people who probably didn't remember her existence, but then again, she couldn't blame herself. She'd saved both their lives; she'd have to forgive herself for having some residual worry for them. Mainly, it was Vilkas who she wanted to fuss over; she'd mothered him for 4 days or so. She frowned as memories of him crying in his sleep (mostly because of his deliria) and being utterly vulnerable dredged themselves up from wherever they'd been hiding. Poor dude didn't have an idea what had been happening half the time; he was too sick and traumatized to really function at that point in time. However, he seemed okay now, judging by his excellent fighting. Pulling her eyes from the sparring, Flynn sighed and strode away before she ascended the stairs to the Skyforge, every step suddenly feeling heavy. Caught in her own stupor, she didn't notice the red-haired woman staring intently at her retreating form.

Aela frowned as she came upon Jorrvaskr, fresh from a job, and saw an enormously tall Redguard woman peeking around the wooden wall at the training yard. The racket of two sparring people reached Aela's ears, so she figured the woman was watching whoever was training. She went to call out to the woman, but stopped herself and slowly closed her mouth. Something about the woman was...strange. She didn't look like a normal gawker; something about her was screaming she was different. Leaning against the stone wall a safe distance away, Aela pursed her lips in thought. It clicked. The woman had the stance of a warrior! Perhaps she was there to join? They were in need of new blood. But then...that wasn't all of it. Something about this woman was still nagging at her. She was presumably staring at the two sparrers, but with a gleam in her eyes that almost looked like...affection? Concern? Aela settled on motherly concern, which made absolutely no sense to her. Last she checked, she hadn't seen this woman anywhere near Jorrvaskr; so she probably didn't know any of their warriors.

The woman's eyes flitted between the two sparrers and- her eyes. Her _eyes._ All the way from where she was positioned, she could see that they were _silver._ Hircine's hairy balls, was this woman another werewolf? The wolf in Aela huffed in interest, uncurling from it's rest. Feeling a part of it latch onto her, Aela looked at the woman again. The word "safe" rang in her head. Alright, this woman was clearly not a threat, but that posed a new question; why was she sure the woman was safe? What was her wolf telling her? Had the Redguard helped Aela in the past? No, she was sure she'd remember someone as freakishly tall as this woman. It suddenly hit her. She _did_ remember this woman. Pelagia farm came back to mind and Aela nodded to herself. This was the woman who'd withstanding that giant's blow and thereby saved Farkas's ass once- no. _No._ Aela's entire body screamed at the word wolf in her snarled. Not once, then? The wolf in her huffed in assent. Twice? The woman had saved Farkas...twice. What had been the second time?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Aela was sure she had been staring at this woman for an awkwardly long time, but she was too mentally occupied to drag her eyes away. Her mind whirled in search of what was just slipping out of her reach. Farkas had been telling a story to their newest recruit, Ria, just the other night. The story of how a tall, beautiful Redguard woman had saved his ass so long ago. Why was she thinking about that story? The wolf in her growled, and Aela had the profound urge to hit herself in the head. What piece wasn't connecting? Farkas had told the story of a tall, pale-eyed, long-haired, thick lipped, beautiful...Redguard. Redguard. This woman was a Redguard. A Redguard with long hair, thick lips, and silver eyes. A startlingly tall and strikingly beautiful Redguard. Aela nearly stumbled backwards. This was _the_ Redguard. Holy shit. She was a fucking moron. Ysgramor's mighty axe, and she had been calling Farkas the ice-brain. This Redguard woman had saved one of her packmates.

 _One._

The wolf in her raised it's hackles. Aela's heart sank.

Not one...two? Two?!

Who else did this woman save?

Her mind whirled between her packmates. Farkas was out of the question; he'd already been saved. Skjor or Kodlak? No. No, no just thinking their name felt _wrong._ No, it was- Vilkas. This woman had saved _Vilkas_. When? How? Why? Aela remembered the woman's words vividly from their brief encounter, merely because of how utterly strange the woman had been. She'd only been in Skyrim for under a week or so and had survived Helgen, thereby fended off a dragon, withstood the blow of the giant for someone she hadn't even known, and didn't even tell them her name. She'd occupied Aela's mind long after they'd met, plaguing her with the nagging suspicion that she'd been the one who'd saved Farkas from the Silver Hand, which was just kind of proven true-oh. Oh fuck.

Oh _fuck_. This woman _knew._ Knew about Farkas! Shit! Fuck fuck fuckety fuck. Aela forced herself to relax. What happened to Farkas had happened over a year ago, and their secret hadn't been spilled yet. It was probably fine. Probably. She was getting distracted. This was about Vilkas. This woman had saved Vilkas at some point this year or the last, since that was the timeframe she'd been in Skyrim so far, unless Vilkas had briefly left the country without telling anyone before returning, which was the exact opposite of something Vilkas-y. The only time she could think of Vilkas getting seriously fucked up was two months ago, after he'd been held captive for about three weeks at Fellglow-

Fellglow.

Fellglow, Fellglow, Fellglow, _Fellglow, Fellglow, FELLGLOW!_

The wolf in her was howling.

Aela felt herself pale.

She'd spent weeks tearing up Skyrim in search of Vilkas, and he had been held captive in Fellglow. Supposedly, the Ebony Maiden had freed all of the prisoners there, and had taken special care of Vilkas since he was the most fucked up. She'd even carted Vilkas to the city herself, dropping him off at the gate. Vilkas had been addled for a while after Fellglow; and once he'd gotten his head screwed on correctly he'd described his savior as a very comforting presence, but since his eyes had been fucked up at the time, all he could really gather from her appearance was that she had long, dark hair, and was either a dark-skinned Nord like Vignar, or a Redguard. Everyone had latched on to the Nord idea, but now... This woman matched his description, as vague as it was. If she had saved Vilkas, it was likely it had been that occasion (as that instance was the only near-death situation she could think of Vilkas having), and thereby it was very likely that she was- holy fucking shit. _Holy fucking shit._ This woman was the _everloving motherfucking Ebony Maiden_.

Not only that, but more importantly, she'd saved Farkas and Vilkas's lives! If not for her, two of their strongest members, and two of her packmates would be dead. The fact hit her with startling heaviness, and Aela felt her chest tighten. Ysgramor's beard, the Companions truly owed her a huge debt! Aela's feet froze to the ground when the woman sighed and turned in the direction of the Skyforge. Several heartbeats passed before there was the distinct sound of metal clattering to the ground, and Eorlund started...yelling and laughing? Oh, yeah. Eorlund had known the Ebony Maiden prior to her uprise. Oh, holy shit. Eorlund knew the Ebony Maiden's name. Shaking herself, Aela hurried inside of Jorrvaskr. She'd interrogate Eorlund for the Ebony Maiden's name later; she needed to report to Kodlak immediately. She waved at the random members who called out to her, but didn't bother stopping. As she hurried along, she noticed Vilkas nor Farkas were in the hall. Unless they were downstairs, it had probably been them sparring. That would explain why the Ebony Maiden had been watching; she was seeing how they were doing. A quick peek into their rooms downstairs confirmed her suspicions. Bustling past Tilma and shouting an apology over her shoulder, she barrelled into Kodlak's quarters and slammed the door shut.

Kodlak quirked an eyebrow as she entered in a flurry of limbs. "Aela, you normally don't seem so uncomposed. Has someone lost an arm?"

Aela righted her posture, pressing her lips in a line out of embarrassment. "Do you remember how over a year ago a Redguard woman saved Farkas's life from the Silver Hand?" She blurted, striding quickly towards Kodlak's desk.

Kodlak frowned, leaning forward. "Of course I do. How could I forget?"

"And I'm sure you haven't forgotten how the Ebony Maiden nursed Vilkas back to decent health before returning him to us?"

"Aela, I'm not one for beating around the bush, and I know you aren't either. What is this about?"

"Gods, and we call Farkas the Ice Brain! Can't you see what I'm getting at!? The woman who saved Farkas and the Ebony Maiden are one and the same! And she's here!"

Kodlak looked, if anything, surprised at this and rather disbelieving. "Huh. Small world, eh?"

Aela nearly slammed her palms on the table in frustration. "You don't understand! This is the Ebony Maiden! I know it's her!"

Kodlak looked skeptical. "Are you sure it's her?"

"Yes!"

"How so?"

Aela gestured towards her chest where her wolf lied nestled. Kodlak stared at her chest and back up at her questioningly.

"Your...breasts told you?"

Aela screamed in the back of her throat. "The _wolf,_ Kodlak!"

Kodlak's eyebrows raised to his hairline and he cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. Forgive me, all this paperwork has frazzled my brain. If you're certain it truly is her, see if you cannot bring her before me. I should quite like to thank her."

Something akin to frustration flared in her chest. "Do you even care?!"

Kodlak pushed a hand through his hair. "Of course I do. It's just...now, it isn't every day that you hear that the mighty warrioress responsible for continued lives of your packmates it at your door, no less after hours upon hours of paperwork."

Aela deflated a little, and sighed. "I understand. You must be exhausted. Either way, I'm a little out of sorts because of this too."

"How did you come to the conclusion it was her? Was she wearing the armor, or was it something else?"

"If she'd been wearing the armor, I wouldn't have been able to link her to Farkas. When I saw her, she was peering at two people sparring; probably Vilkas and Farkas since neither of them are inside. I thought she looked strange, and I realized she had the stance of a warrior. But something else was still off, and I noticed she had silver eyes. I thought she may be a werewolf, but once the wolf in me took a gander, it declared her safe and not a werewolf. I was wondering why I didn't see her as a possible threat, and I came to the conclusion that she had helped us at some point. I remembered who Farkas described as his savior over a year ago, and it fell into place. She'd saved one of our packmates. But suddenly that wasn't right either, she had apparently helped us twice, and my mind fell to Vilkas. The only time he's been hurt enough in the past year to warrant life-saving was Fellglow. Nothing else seems to fit. The person who rescued Vilkas from Fellglow was the Ebony Maiden. She had obviously saved him at some point. She's the Ebony Maiden. Simple as that."

Kodlak looked impressed, but a sliver of doubt was still visible in his eyes. "Your deduction skills are impressive, Aela, and I'm not doubting your judgement, but until we ask her, we can't be sure. It does not do to rely on instinct alone."

"I suppose you're right, even if my instincts have never been wrong," Aela said moodily, shaking her head.

"That is true. The wolf in you is strong." Kodlak rose from his desk, stretching his back. "Well, perhaps I should get up and meet her myself. Follow?" He inclined his head towards the door.

"Of course. Should we get Skjor?"

"As their forebear, I'm sure he'd be very glad to meet the woman who saved his pups, whether he admits it or not. Will you fetch him while I collect myself?"

"Yes. I'll be back shortly."

Aela hurried from Kodlak's room, barging directly into Skjor's quarters without bothering to knock. Skjor cursed loudly and tripped over his trousers, looking up sharply to see Aela standing there.

"Woman!" He hissed, yanking up his trousers. "I am trying to dress myself!"

"I can see that," Aela eyed him shrewdly. "Back from a job, then?"

"Yes, now leave!"

"Sorry to say, but you can't relax just yet. You need to come with me and Kodlak."

Skjor deflated, sighing. "Can it wait until I'm wearing pants?"

"Hardly. Hurry up, would you?"

"Can you give me a brief synopsis on what all the fuss is about?"

"It concerns Vilkas and Farkas."

Skjor's eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the mention of his pups. "Are they okay?" He asked, a note of rising fear in his tone.

"The reason that they are has arrived here, and I should think you'd like to thank them."

Skjor yanked up his pants and haphazardly tied them before slipping on his shoes. Hurrying behind Aela, they nearly ran into Kodlak. Nodding at her packmates, Aela led the way to the training yard.

"Hey, Ice-brain, Vilkas!"

Farkas and Vilkas stopped short and their heads turned towards them at the same time.

"What do you need, Aela?" Farkas panted, hanging his warhammer on his back.

Aela went to respond, but just then, Eorlund's unmistakable loud laughter sounded from the Skyforge, which was highly unusual unless he'd heard something nice or he was completely sloshed. Before Aela could say anything, the twins trotted off in the direction of the Skyforge. Aela huffed; at least they were going where they needed to go. Turning to face Skjor and Kodlak, she inclined her head towards the Skyforge and followed Vilkas and Farkas.

 _Earlier…._

Finding her feet on the stone landing, Flynn pulled her eyes from the ground and upward. Eorlund looked up from his forge, his eyes landing on her. He looked vaguely confused as he called out to her.

"Hey there, lass. Here to buy something?"

Flynn's heart sank. He didn't remember.

"I, uh…what do you have lying about?" Her throat felt tight.

Eorlund held his hand up, frowning even deeper than before. "I...feel like you're very familiar. You someone important? Forgive me, I'm old. My memory is shit."

 _She wasn't that important anyway._

Flynn's eyes burned a little.

A gnawing feeling swelled in her heart.

That damn _gnaw._

Her left thigh ached.

"No, I'm not anyone at all."

Eorlund tilted his head up, furrowing his eyebrows. "Are you sure? I really feel like I should-" Eorlund stopped short.

The red-hot iron rod in his hand clattered to the ground.

"I'm a fucking moron." He blurted.

Hope began to bloom in her chest. She stomped it down at the start.

And then he said it.

Her name.

"Flynn," He breathed.

Flynn's heart leapt to her throat.

' _She wasn't that important anyway'_ warbled pathetically in her head, and just like that, it was gone. Eorlund remembered who she was. Eorlund _remembered._

Her head reeled and she stupidly blurted, "I told you _not_ to yell at the Jarl about Bleak Falls Barrow."

Eorlund looked completely baffled for a moment before what she was referring to dawned on him and his face broke into a wide grin. "I couldn't restrain myself."

They stood in pregnant silence for a moment before Eorlund moved into action, springing towards her with his arms wide forced herself not to stiffen at the hug.

Eorlund laughed heartily, roughly shaking her shoulder. "Gods, woman! I haven't seen you in so long!" He enveloped her in a hug again, laughing giddily and slapping at her arms. "Look at you! You really did it, didn't you!?"

Flynn smiled slightly, scuffing her shoes on the ground. "I guess I did."

Eorlund walked away and sat on the stone wall next to his forge, looking over at her expectantly. She didn't move, rooted to her place above the stairs. Eorlund patted the place next to him.

"Come over and sit, girlie."

Stiffly, Flynn walked towards him, sitting next to him.

Eorlund smiled brightly, clapping her on the shoulder. "So, why have you come to back to Whiterun?"

"I've uh…" Her tongue felt really heavy in her mouth.

She felt so overwhelmed, and so, so happy. She _mattered_ to someone. She- Eira popped into her head. Then followed Alfhild, Ralof, Hadvar, Alvor, Gerdur, Hod, Orgnar, Agni, Carlotta, Ysolda, Moth, Ghorza, Narri, Mjoll, Lod, Ahkari, Wujeeta, Nurelion, Maven, and- there were so many people. So many people she could hardly name them all. She mattered to _a lot_ of people. What the fuck had she been thinking about? Gods, she was such a selfish bitch. Why couldn't she appreciate everything her friends had done for her? She was such an _asshole_.

Eorlund stared at her expectantly, and she jolted at the realization he was waiting for a response. "I've been all over Skyrim. I just….wanted to come back to where I started."

"Are you going to stay?"

Flynn paused at that, wringing her hands. "I-I...don't know, actually."

"Ah, I sure hope you do. It'd be nice to have someone like you at my side. Looking for an apprenticeship? I'm sure those arms could carry a lot of metal."

Flynn huffed a laugh, and for several minutes she and Eorlund caught up briefly, talking about what had been happening in Whiterun and what she'd been doing. Flynn made a mental note to talk to Danica about the Gildergreen at some point.. She tried not to seem odd, but against her best efforts, Eorlund noticed she was acting weird and frowned.

He prodded her thigh with his booted foot. "What's up with you? Everything okay?"

Flynn laughed breathlessly, pushing her hand through her hair incredulously. "I just- I went to see the Jarl and he said dickish things about me, talking about how I wasn't important anyway, and I thought you wouldn't remember me so-so I was just really surprised! And I'm really happy, which has been a feeling that's made itself scarce lately, so I'm a little overwhelmed."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that. Glad I could bring a smile to that pretty face." Eorlund smiled briefly before it faded from his face and he looked over at Dragonsreach, narrowing his eyes. "So, what did that scrawny milk-drinker say?"

"He heard my voice and recognized it, and lamented about how rude I was, how he didn't mourn my loss, and how I wasn't that important in the first place."

Eorlund growled lowly in the back of his throat and tightened his fists. "Why, I oughta-!"

"Leave him be. I shouldn't take it to heart, and besides, I wasn't polite in the slightest to him."

"Doesn't excuse him being a cock about things." Eorlund frowned deeply, scratching his beard. "He really said you, the one who spent days clearing out a Nordic tomb full of bandits, spider, and draugr all for the sake of his Court Wizard's stupid project and _survived,_ wasn't significant?"

Flynn nodded, squeezing her hand.

Eorlund wrapped a meaty arm around her bony shoulders, shaking his head. "I'd kick the shit out of him, but these idiots here need me to fix their weapons and armor. I can't spend time in jail, I'm afraid. But, to me, just saving Ice Brain's ass- Farkas, that is -makes you significant enough for me."

Flynn had a quick mental debate before she decided she ought to tell Eorlund who she was, or rather who she'd become. "He's not the only Companion I've saved."

"Huh?"

"Do you remember how- I think Vilkas was his name -was returned to the city 2 months ago after being taken care of by the Ebony Maiden?"

"Yeah…?" Eorlund frowned at her thoughtfully for a moment before the realization seemed to slap him in the face. "Wait a minute, you're not tellin' me-!"

Flynn smirked. "Can you guess who the Ebony Maiden is?"

Eorlund stared at her, slack-jawed for a long moment before he laughed heartily (and quite loudly), and smothered her in a hug. "Damn, woman! Look at you, with a fancy title and everything! Gods, I can't believe it!" Flynn laughed with him giddily, grasping onto his arms.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Flynn registered that the sounds of sparring from down below had halted. Two pairs of heavy footsteps slowly thudded up the stairs to the Skyforge. Three or four more people followed behind.

"Eorlund, on a scale of 1 to 10, how drunk are you?" A familiar, gravelly voice called up.

Eorlund and Flynn exchanged a look, knowing who was coming up the stairs, and who was probably following his brother. "If Vilkas is there, don't tell him who I am!" Flynn hissed at Eorlund quietly.

"Why?"

"The Ebony Maiden hides her face for a reason!"

Eorlund nodded and called to Farkas just as he came up the stairs, "I'm not drunk, ice brain."

"Then why're you…." Farkas trailed off as soon as his eyes landed on Flynn, looking as if he were seeing a ghost. "...laughing." He finished dumbly.

"This is who I wanted to show you, Skjor." A woman Flynn vaguely remembered having a name that started with an "A" gestured in her general direction.

With a jolt, Flynn realized the redhead was referring to her.

A bald man with one cloudy eye looked over at her, striding towards her and Eorlund while Farkas stood frozen in place.

"You the one responsible for saving Ice brain and Vilkas here?"

Flynn's heart leapt to her throat. How in the name of Oblivion had the man known? Farkas was a no-brainer, but Vilkas-!

The man's eyes.

They were silver.

 _Silver._

"Me? I think I'd remember this woman helping me." Vilkas shifted his weight to one leg as he crossed his arms skeptically.

"Not my fault your eyes were impaire-"

Flynn looked sharply towards the redheaded woman who'd begun to speak. The redhead seemed to notice this and stopped short. Looking between Vilkas and the redhead, Flynn almost imperceptibly shook her head with wide eyes. The redhead seemed to understand but nonetheless frowned questioningly. Oh, Mara. The woman's eyes were silver too. A white-haired man hung in the back. His eyes were silver too. Flynn's mind reeled.

 _A whole goddamn pack of werewolves in Whiterun._

"Hello?" Vilkas called impatiently.

"Never mind, Vilkas." The redhead said slowly, her gaze never wavering from Flynn.

"Like Oblivion!"

"Drop it," The woman said sharply, casting a warning glance towards Vilkas.

Vilkas closed his mouth and huffed dramatically, turning away. Flynn tried to ignore Farkas's piercing gaze. His eyes were still silver. He seemed rooted to the spot.

 _Mara's ass, they were all bloody werewolves._

The bald man crossed his arms. "You going to answer my question, whelp?"

Flynn shook herself. "Werewolves." She blurted, and nearly slapped herself.

'Why the _fuck_ did I just say that!?' Flynn screeched into her head as if she'd have an answer for herself, and continued her internal screams when her mouth disobeyed her mind and continued moving.

"You're all werewolves."

Vilkas sucked in a breath harshly.

Farkas seemed to regain a sense of reality and made an unintelligent noise before he started to bullshit his packmates out of hot water. Flynn held up her hand, silencing him.

"I know werewolves when I see them. It's alright. So long as you don't wreak havoc among the Holds, I won't kill you or let out your secret. After all," Flynn flitted her eyes between each member, "I'm sure there's a reason the whole inner circle of the Companions is composed of werewolves."

Flynn desperately hoped she was right in her assumption that all of these people were part of the inner circle Eorlund had mentioned during their earlier small talk. Otherwise, she was about to look like a fucking idiot. Fortunately, Dibella took mercy on her, since Flynn was right. The older, white-haired man stepped towards her and his lips pulled into a markedly warm smile for someone who just had a random Redguard lady figure out they were a werewolf.

"You're certainly perceptive, aren't you?" He said with an old, fruity voice that vibrated in her ears. "Welcome to Jorrvaskr. For what you have done for my pack, we extend our greatest thanks to you. Would you accompany Skjor and me downstairs?"

"So you can maul me to death…?" Flynn said cautiously, crossing her arms protectively around herself. "Because if that's the plan here, I don't think I want to, man."

At least now she knew who Skjor was. She had a face to pin to the other person who'd helped find Farkas after she'd left.

Aela snorted at her words before chuckling quietly. "Cautious. I like that."

"We're not going to kill someone as important as you, lass. I think Skyrim would notice your absence fairly quickly."

Flynn pressed her lips in a line. Dammit, why were the beans being spilled today? How did this old guy know she was the Ebony Maiden too? Was Ysolda drunk again?

"Why would Skyrim care?" Vilkas said gruffly, looking between the white haired man and Flynn. "I have no idea who this woman is, and frankly, I want to know what you're not telling me."

"Ah, but you do know her, Vilkas." The man said cryptically. "In due time, you'll be told. Patience, boy."

"You and your obscure words," Vilkas grumbled, narrowing his eyes, "I'm not known for my patience, Kodlak."

Oh! This was Kodlak!

"So, you're the one who carried him back to Jorrvaskr?" Flynn cocked her head towards Vilkas.

Kodlak looked surprised, but said, "I don't think I've ever run that fast in my life. How did you know?"

"My friend Ysolda saw you running. She thought it was sexy, by the way."

Kodlak barked a laugh, his chest swelling with pride. "I'm glad someone still thinks I'm good looking, as old as I am."

"You've aged well." Flynn nodded.

Kodlak smiled broadly. "Quite the flatterer aren't you?"

"Quite the contrary, but sure. We'll pretend that's true." Flynn joked lightly.

"Well, let's go downstairs so Skjor and I can discuss things with you."

"Hold on a damned minute." Vilkas interrupted. "How do I tie into this? Skjor mentioned me, and you mentioned how Kodlak took me back to Jorrvaskr two months ago after, well, you know."

Flynn looked quickly at the woman and back to Vilkas.

Feeling viable bullshit roiling in her head, Flynn said, "I was one of the people who healed you when you were returned to Whiterun. I was outside the gates when the Ebony Maiden came by. She had no potions left, so I just gave you one of mine. I'm a good alchemist. I didn't stay long though; I was just leaving Whiterun at the time for business in Solitude. I've just returned to say hello to Eorlund, and now I've been revealed as the one who saved your brother's life from the Silver hand."

Vilkas sputtered. "That was _you!?"_

"Yes."

"I… I don't know what to say." Vilkas looked utterly baffled. "I've never seen you with Eorlund, either."

"We'd hang out in the Inn," Flynn blurted, freaking out at the lame lie until Vilkas seemed to believe it.

"Well, I suppose then...I can't thank you enough for saving my brother. If you ever need a favor done, come to me." Vilkas nudged his oddly quiet brother. "Hey, thank her, Ice brains."

Farkas's words made her heart leap to her throat. "You're not telling the whole truth, and I don't know why. I won't ask, though. Not now. Either way...thanks."

Flynn stared at Farkas for a long moment, before she nodded and followed Kodlak and Skjor downstairs and back into Jorrvaskr. They led her into the mead hall, where a dark elf looked up.

"New recruit?" The dark elf asked, looking back down at his bow as he restrung it.

Flynn frowned at his bowstring. "That sinew?"

"Yes, actually. You an archer?"

"Ah, no. I can't shoot for shit. However, I know how to make a bow; took an apprenticeship in Windhelm with my friend's uncle for a brief time. Sinew is pliant enough, but too stretchy. Better for short-term. I'd recommend yucca fibres; it's worth the extra gold, even if it's a pain in the ass to string."

The dark elf looked impressed and nodded. "Huh, I'll have to remember that. Maybe you should be Eorlund's apprentice; he's getting old."

"Eh, he's well enough. He's got some kids too."

"You've got a point. You never did answer my question. You gonna join?"

Flynn shrugged. "Probably not."

"Oh. Why are you here, then? Need help?"

"I was just paying Eorlund a visit, and since I've done something for the inner circle, Skjor and Kodlak just wanted to chat. If I don't come back up for a while, be concerned." Flynn wiggled her fingers in a mock display of spookiness before she continued to follow Skjor and Kodlak (the former looking a little impatient).

Once Kodlak, Skjor, and Flynn were in what she assumed was Kodlak's room, she quipped, "I thought the companions was full of elf-haters?"

"Athis has a Nord heart." Skjor responded shortly, sitting in a nearby chair.

"Ah, because Nords are clearly the only capable fighters in all of Nirn, and no minority here is as amazingly capable as you lot." Flynn raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips, and crossed her arms.

Skjor began to sputter, before Flynn made him go oddly quiet as she finished with, "I mean, it's not like the Ebony Maiden is a Redguard, thereby a minority in Skyrim, or a capable fighter. It also is complete bullshit that Redguards are generally described as the best fighters Nirn can offer sword-wise, and High Elves are described as the best fighters magic-wise. Uh uh, no way, only Nords are good fighters."

"Let's not get so political. Today is a good day, is it not?" Kodlak defused the tension, inclining his head towards a chair nearby Flynn.

She sat down and crossed her legs. "I don't see how it would be. Someone easily realized the entire inner circle of the Companions is composed of werewolves."

"I admit, that's disconcerting, but it appears to me that you have past experience with werewolves, no?"

"Three, yes." Flynn responded. "I'm sure you can guess two of them?"

Skjor stopped her there. "Of course we can, but who was the third?"

"This dude named Sinding from Falkreath."

"The child killer?"

Flynn frowned. "It wasn't his fault. Hircine cursed him. He had no control."

Skjor deflated a little, sinking back into his chair. "That doesn't change it, but at least it's explained."

"It's wonderful you have sympathy for our kind, but it's time we addressed the troll in the room. I'd like for you to recount how you saved Farkas and Vilkas, please."

"Why?"

"I'm just curious, Ebony Maiden."

"Right, you lot don't know my name, do you?"

"I'm afraid not."

"It's Flynn. I know all of the inner circle's names, save for the redhead. I know it starts with an 'A''; we met briefly over a year ago."

Kodlak made an odd face at the sound of her name, but nonetheless nodded in understanding. "Her name is Aela. She's the one who figured out who you were."

Flynn frowned. "How so?"

"Something you must understand about werewolves is that we have a strong sense of family, and our instincts hardly ever fail us. Some have stronger instincts than others; Aela's are incredibly strong. Instinctually, she knew you were safe, and wondered why. She concluded that you'd saved not one, but two of our packmates. Skjor nor I have been in mortal peril lately, but Farkas and Vilkas both have. The only situation Vilkas had been in was in Fellglow; the Ebony Maiden was the one who saved him. Hence, you."

Flynn hummed. "I suppose I could see her coming to that conclusion. It's a shame that she's correct; I had this whole persona, secret identity thing for a reason. Believe it or not, I'm not one for attention, but I wanted to be strong either way. Somehow I managed to get recognized, and my ebony armor became my trademark. Without the ebony, I'm just an average person. I like it like that. Anyway, I'm sure you'd like to hear about my heroic, fantastic, amazing misadventures?" Flynn finished her last sentence very sarcastically.

"A mature outlook. Do tell us about how you encountered them both, though."

"I'll start with Farkas. I'm sure you've long since heard about what happened in Helgen?"

Kodlak frowned. "Yes. How does Helgen tie into this?"

"I'm just going to preface this story by saying that Helgen was where I started. I came to Skyrim about four or five days before I came upon Farkas. I was mistaken as a Stormcloak, which was a term I was entirely unfamiliar at the time, and sent to my execution for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I somehow managed to lead a group of 6 other people out of Helgen alive before I came to Whiterun to report to Balgruuf. He, like an asshole, sent me to Bleak Falls Barrow in search of some stupid rock. At this time I had little to no warrior training, so it took me several days. This is a catalyst. Following?"

Kodlak and Skjor both nodded slowly before Skjor said in an awed tone, "You survived Helgen?"

Flynn felt her lips pull into a frown. "I'm lucky I did. I remember my now-friend Ralof helped me out of my binds, I took a dagger from the inn, and I slashed the dragon right on the nose to distract it from killing a kid, who I call my nephew now. I looked it in the eyes for all of two seconds before it screamed something in dragon tongue. It was something like, I dunno, Zu'u fen ni oblaan. Then tried to torch me. When it failed, it flew off. I can't believe I didn't die."

"You remember what it said remarkably well." Kodlak commented, furrowing his white eyebrows.

Flynn laughed, short and loud. "You'd find you don't easily forget what a dragon screamed at you before it tried to kill you. It is strange, though. The words roll off my tongue rather easily, don't you think?"

Kodlak hummed. "They do. Odd."

Flynn shrugged, "It's probably because those words have haunted my nightmares."

Skjor let out a loud breath, shaking his head with wide eyes. "You looked a dragon in the eyes and survived. And you could hardly lift a sword."

"Yes," Flynn confirmed, "I don't know what I was trying to do. All I could think was that I wasn't going to let a kid die if I could do something."

"I suppose that was your thoughts with Farkas?"

Flynn nodded. "Yeah. I should get to that. Anyway, as we left Helgen, I picked up a lot of clothes from the Keep, which is important later. I was returning from Bleak Falls Barrow with the Dragonstone in my bag when I decided to set up camp directly outside of the city out of spite for the Jarl and the Court Wizard. I went out for a walk or something when I noticed what looked like a group of bandits attacking a rather large saber cat. I walked a little closer when one of the bandits noticed me. While they were distracted, that was when Farkas must've seen an opening and attacked them. In the fray of the fight, I hid behind a rock to see if I'd need to intervene. Caution was important because I was still shitty at fighting. The bandits managed to subdue him with a lot of them left dead. I think there were three left. They started deliberately hurting him just to cause pain, so I took pity on him and killed the rest of them off. I figured I'd at least attempt to heal this beast thing, so I pulled the arrow in his hind leg out."

"Ah," Skjor hummed in understanding. "Probably silver tipped. That's why he couldn't change back."

Flynn nodded. "As soon as the arrow was out, he changed back. I realized who he was and tried desperately to keep him awake. I helped him drink a healing potion, and carried him to the nearby river to wash the blood from him. He kind of just clung to me like a mere babe and let me take care of him. I guess it doesn't hurt to say he cried a little; can't blame him either. He nearly died, anyone would be upset. I dressed him in some of the clothes I had picked up from Helgen, and carried him back to my camp. He fell asleep pretty much as soon as his head hit the bedroll. He woke sporadically through the night, and at one point he was kind of coherent long enough to get him to eat. I coddled him until the morning until I had to get a move on, so I placed some wards and runes to keep him safe. Sorry about that, I didn't think that entirely through.

Skjor grumbled. "I was pissed at the time, but now, I'm not so sore. A brief scare is worth far less than the life of my pup, much less the lives of them both. Tell us about Vilkas."

"Pup?"

"I'm their forebear."

"That's...not helping."

"A forebear is the person who turned a werewolf into, well, a werewolf. Forebears and pups have a special bond. Kodlak is my and Aela's forebear, whereas I am Vilkas and Farkas's."

"I see. Thanks. Well, onto Vilkas. His brother is entirely indirectly the reason he's alive."

"How so?"

"Though I didn't really realize it at the time, saving Farkas felt damn good. I wanted to save more people. To do that, I needed to be stronger. It was Eorlund who gave me the final kick, but it was later on that I realized that helping people spurned me to make myself into the Ebony Maiden. So, about two months ago, I was hanging out in Markarth. I rid the city of an entire forsworn conspiracy, and since I had gotten mistakenly jailed in the process, I was a little ticked. I decided it would be a good idea to blow off some steam, so I asked around for a good place to clear out. This kid Erik in Rorikstead pointed me towards Fellglow. I cleared the place out and freed a bunch of prisoners in the process. At the time, however, Vilkas was so fucked up my eyes swept right over him because I assumed he was one of the poor few who'd died. It was only about half an hour later when I was double-checking that I'd realize my mistake. I woke him up as gently as I could, and he flipped out. He was yelling about how I was going to hurt him, and that I should just kill him already. He managed to muster the strength to run a little, but his leg gave out on him halfway up the stairs. To be dead honest, I was a little impressed with how far he got. He broke down on the spot, and I had to soothe him and explain that I was just a wandering warrior and he was going to be okay. Once he realized I was there to help, he let himself pass out. I carried him up and out of Fellglow, cleaned the blood and other gross shit off of him, and dressed him in some clothes I was carrying for my friend Marcurio."

"Marcurio?"

"He's a mercenary in Riften, and a damn good one. He doesn't charge me for it though, because our adventures are fun enough anyway. We travel together a lot, so I usually have some clothes on me for him. He's kind of scrawny, so they fit Vilkas well enough at the time. It was kind of sad how baggy they still were on him."

Skjor frowned. "He looked little better than a skeleton when he was returned."

"I know," Flynn nodded, "I was glad to see some meat on his bones earlier when he was sparring with his brother. He's made a good recovery. I wasn't thinking about it earlier, but he most likely has a scar across his left eye, doesn't he?"

"Aye, he does."

Flynn frowned. "I was hoping it wouldn't scar, but it was pointless hope. It was a very deep gash that I couldn't really focus on in favor of restoring his eyesight."

"You did the right thing. You did a fantastic job healing him, better than the priestesses could've done here." Kodlak reassured her, patting her knee. "If not for you, he'd be blind in that eye."

"Thank you. After I dressed him, I took him back inside and into a comfortable room near the door. I cleaned up the bed, placed him in there, and quickly cleaned up. I had to drag an alchemy lab downstairs. I made some potions and gave him steady doses-"

"-Steady doses? What do you mean by that?"

"Ah. In my travels, I've noticed a difference between people who take time to recover from terrible injuries and those who heal the injuries instantly with potions. Those who go through a drawn out period of healing get better just fine. People who heal themselves instantly still feel residual pain every now and then, which can be a hassle. Can you recall any bad injuries? Does the area still ache sometimes?"

Skjor gingerly touched his head. "I shattered my skull in the war, which is what blinded me. It was healed in about 4 hours, but I was still out of commission. I get terrible headaches sometimes."

Flynn nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes, injuries need to get almost entirely healed immediately to preserve life, but generally, a drawn out period of speeded healing is good. Anyway, for three days he was generally delirious due to a bad fever. He cried a lot and called out for Tilma, Farkas, and you two."

Kodlak and Skjor both looked visibly pained by this.

Kodlak sighed deeply as his eyes creased with worry. "At least he's okay now."

"Yes. I made him eat whenever he woke, which was frequently, and afterwards I would just lay with him and hold him so he wouldn't freak out. After three days, he showed signs of coherency and he was healed enough, so I carted him back to Whiterun. I left him in the care of the guards, and went on my way. Thus ends that tragic tale."

Skjor exhaled loudly, putting his hands on his face. "Gods, now I want to go beat the shit out of both of them and then apologize for beating them."

Kodlak barked a laugh. "I understand; I feel the same."

"Don't beat them, that's destroying my hard work." Flynn rolled her eyes with a small smile on her face.

"Thank you for telling us about this and allowing us to pin a face to our packmates' savior. I know you probably aren't interested, but we would be honored to have you as a Companion."

Flynn frowned, crossing her legs and sticking her tongue in her cheek. "It would be nice to have some stability in my life," She admitted, biting her lip. "I'll have to think about it, though. I don't really know. I have no need of money; I have more than enough. I have no need to work a day in my life, but…"

"But you enjoy working?"

"Yeah. It's nice to have something to do with myself." Flynn clenched her teeth, pressing her lips in a line. "I'll consider it. I'll have an answer by tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you. You can go if you'd like. I think Skjor and I have some thinking to do."

"Right, then. I'll hang out upstairs and chat with the other members. I'll see if I like them any."

"Alright."

Flynn loosely saluted them and walked right out of the door. An old lady was sweeping a few feet away and looked up at Flynn's exit.

"Oh! Are you the new recruit everyone's chattering about?"

"Depends. What are they saying?"

The old lady laughed lightly. "They were telling me a Redguard was going downstairs with Kodlak and Skjor. That usually only means one thing."

"Huh. Well, I was just chatting with them. At the end, they tried to convince me to join up, so I'm just thinking about it. I don't know, though."

The old lady leaned against her broom. "I'd join. Everyone here is like one big...very messy family. It isn't easy, but you look like the type who could handle this kind of life."

"Why do you think that, ma'am?"

"I've been tending to the warriors of Jorrvaskr for most of my life, love. I know the stance of a warrior."

"Tending to the warriors? You wouldn't happen to be Tilma, would you?"

The old woman looked rather surprised. "How did you know?"

Looking around, Flynn frowned at her slip-up. "Uh, well...ah, fuck it. You seem trustworthy enough. Ebony Maiden? That's me."

Tilma looked startled. "So, _you're_ the one who saved Vilkas from Fellglow!"

"Mhm. I just knew who you were because, well...he cried out for you a lot."

Tilma looked pained at this. "Oh, poor boy. He must've called out for Farkas, Kodlak, and Skjor too, then?"

"Yeah. I figured he was pretty close with them."

"You know, you did a fantastic job in fixing him up. You have my thanks."

"It was no problem." Flynn frowned, peering at the haggard look to Tilma's face. "You mentioned everyone here was very messy. Do you need any help cleaning up?"

Tilma shook her head rather quickly. "Oh, dear, I don't need any help. It's alright."

"I insist. You look tired."

Tilma laughed quietly. "I suppose that's why they call me Tilma the Haggard."

"Do they actually?"

"Indeed. I ought to hit them with my broom."

Flynn leaned over and picked up a spare broom that was leaning on the wall. "You go do that, then. I'll be down here sweeping my heart out."

Tilma smiled brightly. "In all my years here, no one else has ever bothered."

"Well, now someone has. If you won't let me do it, let's at least do it together."

A few hours passed, dusk fell, Jorrvaskr was practically sparkling, and dinner was made and set out. Flynn watched in muted amusement as Tilma chewed everyone out for never helping her with their own messes and praised Flynn's efforts. Tilma sat down and daintily sipped on her tea, sending a pointed looked towards Torvar, who was getting stew everywhere. Flynn sat down next to her.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Tilma inclined her head towards the meal Flynn had played a large part in making.

She shook her head, leaning back against the chair.

"Why not?"

"Not hungry."

Tilma prodded at Flynn's bony sides like Sigrid had done earlier that day, frowning skeptically. "Nonsense. You looked and feel peaky. Eat something!" She insisted.

"I ate earlier today! My friend's aunt made me some thick venison stew. I'm fine, really!"

Tilma pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Alright, okay, and how early was this?"

"...In the morning."

"Like I said, miss. Eat."

Flynn went to protest, but Farkas slowly slid a small bowl full of stew towards her. Something on his face quelled the words on her tongue, and she moodily stabbed her fork into a chunk of potato. Farkas kept looking over as she ate, and she deftly avoided his eyes. He had something to say, something probably important, but she was going to postpone it as much as possible. Farkas sighed and stood. He walked towards her and she kept herself from tensing. To her relief, he walked right past her. But then, he whispered one word. One word that made her freeze.

"Ebony."

And just like that, he was gone.

She looked at the spot he'd occupied for a long time. Well, Farkas knew. How? Why? She didn't know, but she had a feeling she'd find out soon. The rest of the night went by smoothly, and she bid everyone goodnight with a strangely warm feeling in her chest. She strolled down the cobblestone pathway while the cold night air numbed her nose and swirled in her lungs. A few people milled about, mostly couples lost in their own worlds with their lovers. Smiling slightly, she made her way into the warm inn, ordering two bottles of mead; Honningbrew and Black-briar, just because she could. She stuffed them into her bag before she keyed into her room, and stopped short. There on her bed sat Farkas, holding her helmet. He looked up at her entrance.

"I'm not an idiot, Flynn."

Her heart leapt to her throat.

Farkas stood up, putting her helmet on the end table. He strode towards her, closed the door, and...hugged her tightly. A little befuddled, she wrapped her arms around him in return. To her slight horror, he began to shake and she could feel wetness staining her chest. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, she pressed her nose into his hair and kissed his forehead, rubbing up and down his back. She had absolutely no fucking clue what she was doing, so she just let herself slip into comforting mother mode (as Haming and Marcurio both liked to refer to it as) and soothed Farkas as best as she could. After a few minutes, Farkas's body-wracking sobs died down and he pulled away. His face was all pink and puffy and he wiped furiously at his eyes. Pulling his hands away, she gently wiped the tears away herself.

Keeping her hand on his stubbly cheek, she asked,"Now, tell me. Why are you sobbing into my chest?"

She was pretty sure she could guess why, but it didn't hurt to ask.

Farkas looked incredulous as he breathed out. "You saved not only _my_ life but my _brother's_ , and you're asking me why I'm crying?"

Flynn smiled lightly. "Alright, just confirming. C'mon, let's sit down." She gestured towards the bed.

Farkas nodded, stiffly sitting down on the mattress.

"Black-Briar or Honningbrew?" Flynn asked.

Farkas looked startled. "What?"

"Mead. Which do you prefer?" Flynn swirled the two cold bottles she'd pulled from her bag.

"I-uh, Black-Briar?" Farkas replied, looking like he was at a loss.

"Okay, nice. Don't tell Maven if you see her, but I prefer Honningbrew."

Farkas made a weird face as if he wasn't expecting the conversation to take this turn when she handed the bottle of Black-Briar mead to him. "Honningbrew is too sweet for my taste…?"

Flynn laughed at his expression. "I prefer sweet drinks; I like wine more than mead." Putting a hand on her cheek, she said, "You weren't expecting this, were you?"  
"I was kind of expecting a chat about, y'know, important and mature adult stuff like how I owe you a life debt and shit...and we're already drinking together."

Flynn shook her head as she popped the cork out of the Honningbrew mead bottle and took a long swig. "I'm not one for life debts, love. Don't worry about it. If I actually cared about those, half of Skyrim would owe me their life by now."

Farkas obviously had no idea how to respond to that and picked at the cork in his bottle for a while, not meeting her eyes.

Finally, he burst out with, "Please join the Companions!"

Flynn nearly choked on her mead and coughed after she swallowed harshly. "Morwha's throbbing vagina, you'd think you were asking me to court you with how you said that."

Farkas blushed bright red to the tips of his ears.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a moment before he choked out in a high-pitched voice, "Morwha's...throbbing vagina?"

Flynn burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Sorry. Hammerfell curse. Kind of the more inappropriate version of Dibella's tits. She's the Redguard fertility goddess, and she apparently has four arms so she can grab more husbands. She just sounds like she has a pregnancy kink to me."

Flynn laughed incredulously. "Okay…!" He held his hands out in a helpless gesture, shaking with awkward laughter. "Alright…" He trailed off, staring at the bottle of mead clenched in his hand.

Leaning over, Flynn slowly uncorked the bottle and pushed it towards his face. Eyeing the swirling mead inside, Farkas blinked before he suddenly chugged half the bottle. Flynn watched in amusement as he rubbed his face, shaking his head.

"You...didn't answer my question."

Flynn frowned. "You'd like me to join?"

"Of course!"

"Why?"

Farkas pressed his lips in a line. "I just-! Since you, y'know, saved my life and all, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You just...there's something about you that makes me want to stay by you. And not only that, but you saved my brother. You're a hero, and Skyrim needs that. And you're the godsdamn Ebony Maiden! That's amazing! We need new blood, we need someone like you."

Flynn leaned closer to him, sighing. "You want me to stay, because you just have a feeling?"

"Yeah! I know that sounds stupid, but I-"

"Can't really explain it?"

Farkas deflated. "Yeah."

Flynn looked at the ceiling. "I suppose...I've been all over Skyrim. I've made myself into a badass warrior, someone _strong._ My goal is complete. I've seen everything Skyrim has to offer, but I...haven't really stuck around anywhere. Maybe it'd be good for me to have some stability in my life."

Farkas looked at her hopefully. "Is that...a yes?"

Flynn sighed, rubbing her face. "It is. I'll join up."

The huge beaming grin on Farkas's face set her decision in stone. She went to speak again, when the sound of two very familiar voices sounded down the hallway.

"FLYNNIGAN SOMETHING-SOMETHING, I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR FULL NAME IS, SORRY, BUT I SWEAR ON SHOR'S HAIRY BALLS THAT IF YOU AREN'T SOMEWHERE IN THIS INN, I AM GOING TO TEAR APART SKYRIM IN SEARCH OF YOU SO I CAN KICK YOUR SORRY ASS!"

"YEAH, WHAT CARLOTTA SAID!"

Flynn felt herself go cold.

 _Fuck, I forgot about Ysolda and Carlotta!_


	5. Chapter 5

After a swift but stinging tongue lashing from Carlotta and Ysolda, Flynn was let off the hook. Carlotta backed out of the room with her fingers extending in the "I'm watching you" symbol as she closed the door behind her with narrowed eyes. Farkas looked between Flynn and the door for a long ten seconds before he turned to look at her fully, looking utterly bewildered.

"What…" Farkas scrunched his eyebrows together and gestured loosely towards the door, "was that about?"

Flynn frowned a little. She'd like to avoid discussing her shortcomings (which had been eloquently displayed by Ysolda).

"Nothing in particular." She settled on saying, leaning back in her chair and trying to mask her faint embarrassment.

"Like Oblivion!"

 _Dammit._

Farkas folded his arms and frowned. "Tell me what they were yelling at you about; all I caught was something about you running away to Riften, being a flake, and being a...something-something little bitch."

Flynn heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Put it this way; Carlotta gets a little indecipherable when she's mad. Ysolda, even more so."

"Indeciph-a-what?" Farkas tilted his head in confusion.

"Indecipherable." She corrected slowly, looking at Farkas with an odd expression for a long moment. He was an adult; shouldn't he know words like that? "...It means to be hard to understand, whether it be verbal or written. Like...uh, when someone's handwriting is terrible and you can't read it, their handwriting is indecipherable. In terms of writing, you can also say illegible or incomprehensible; they basically mean the same thing. If you're talking about speech, you can describe it as incomprehensible too."

Farkas blinked at her and frowned thoughtfully. Gazing at Farkas for a moment, Flynn was suddenly reminded of her days as a teacher in High Rock. He looked far too much like her Breton students, with his inquisitive face and probing eyes. His eyebrows scrunched together and he seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. Flynn clucked her tongue. Did Farkas understand what she was explaining? He looked as if he did, but she could tell he had questions.

"...You understand? Or do I need to explain again? It's fine if I have to."

Farkas shook himself and suddenly smiled. "No, I do get it! It's just- you made that so easy to understand."

"I did?"

Farkas's glowing, excited face made her heart flutter warmly in her chest. She'd taught him something! Gods, did she really miss being a teacher. She wished she hadn't had to leave.

"Yeah!" Farkas continued, running a hand through his hair. "Vilkas tries to explain things to me but he usually just makes it more confusing. Then he ends up just getting mad at me and tells me to shut up about it."

Flynn frowned. From the sound of it, Vilkas wasn't a very good teacher. Flynn didn't like this, not one bit. She rested the flat of her hand on her chin and propped herself up on her knee.

"Does he make it overly-complicated? As in, he uses advanced vocabulary that you don't understand to try to help you understand but ends up confusing you more?"

"Well, he does confuse me more when he makes it all wordy and doesn't explain a lot, but...advanced? Overly-complicated?"

"You don't read a lot, do you? It's fine, I'll help. Advanced means something like... someone has a bigger understanding of something than someone else might."

"Like...Tilma has an advanced knowledge of cooking?"

"You could use it like that, but it sounds a little weird, don't you think? Cooking is a pretty general skill. You'd use advanced for something more like; Eorlund has an advanced knowledge of smithing. If you wanted to say Tilma was good at cooking, you'd say that Tilma has a lot of skill in the kitchen."

Farkas's face brightened. "I get it!" His brows furrowed. "But...what is a general skill? Like, what counts as one?"

Flynn bit her lip. "That's a little difficult to explain. Think of it this way, I guess. If it's kind of like a household thing, like sweeping, cooking, mopping, dusting, and so on, it's probably general and you can just say they're good at the thing. But if it's something that takes years of practice, like gardening, smithing, alchemy, magic, and fighting skills, that's when you'd use advanced."

Farkas nodded and Flynn was confident that he grasped what she meant. He suddenly asked, "Gardening is an advanced skill?"

Flynn nodded. "It's a lot harder than it looks, trust me. I should know; I used to have a beautiful garden when I lived in Cyrodil. I had so many pretty flowers. I also grew food and a lot of herbs. I miss that garden." She sighed and looked away, thinking wistfully of her old garden. She'd spent so much time making it look absolutely gorgeous.

"Why did you ever leave it behind?"

 _A man's voice growling behind the door. "We know you're in there, Ishtar! Get out, now! You've been running long enough! You can't hide from us anymore!"_

" _I won't ever go back, and you can't make me!"_

 _Flashes of light. Fear. Scratched hands. Screaming. My flowers, I worked so hard on them. They're all burnt. I loved those flowers. My herbs, my food. All of it is destroyed. Those monsters. My garden made me happy. Why can't I ever keep what keeps me happy? I won't forgive them. I won't go back. I won't go into the basement. I won't stay in the dark anymore. They can't make me. They won't make me!_

 _One day, I'll make them pay!_

 _Not yet, not yet._

 _Run._

 _Run._

 _Run, run, run..._

A short thrill of fear shot up Flynn's spine and she floundered momentarily. "I...uh...I just had to leave. There was no real reason." That was nothing but a damned lie but if Farkas noticed, he didn't comment. Changing the subject, she said, "I actually have another garden in the works at my house, which is near Falkreath. The soil there is perfect for growing my favorite flower, which is incidentally in high demand for poison due to the civil war; Nightshade. I have about 18 bushes of it starting to grow. I'm growing a bunch of other stuff, but that's what I'm growing the most of right now."

Farkas frowned. "How do you take care of it?"

"I have my Housecarl tend to it when I'm away."

Farkas looked surprised. "You're a Thane?"

Oh, fuck. "Yeah. It's not a big deal. Let's not talk about that for now."

Farkas looked as if he had a million questions but asked none of them. "Skjor likes nightshade too." He began to play with his fingers. "He picks one of the flowers whenever we pass a bush of them whenever we do a job together."

"He does? Huh, that's nice. Most people don't like nightshade because, due to all it's poisonous qualities, it's seen as an evil flower. I think it's all nonsense."

"Yeah…"

Farkas and Flynn sat there for a long moment of pregnant silence.

"So…" Flynn twiddled with her thumbs. "I never explained what overly complicated meant?"

Farkas leaned forward. "Tell me."

"It basically means 'very complex', which is kind of like when someone asks you to do pick a flower but instructs you to pick off one particular petal, trim 3 centimeters and 4 extra millimeters from the stem, pluck off two leaves but keep just one there, dye one petal black and another red, take a knife and gentle peel the outer covering of the stem like you're peeling a carrot, and then they ask like four other things."

Farkas barked a laugh _('Dammit Flynn, don't make werewolf puns!')_ and waved his hand to quiet her. "I got it, I got it."

"Sure?"

"Positive. What does 'basically' mean?"

"If someone says 'basically' before explaining, they're doing the exact opposite of making it overly complicated."

"...They're telling you the simple, important parts!"

"Exactly! Good job!" Flynn praised, smiling at Farkas's beaming face.

"I actually get it. You're a really good teacher!''

"Thank you."

Flynn blew out a surprised breath. Farkas sure was picking up vocabulary fast. She'd overheard earlier that day in Jorrvaskr that Farkas wasn't a reader, to which someone had quipped it was because he couldn't understand half the words. She'd been offended on his behalf but Farkas had waved her off, saying words weren't really his thing anyway. Well, this little lesson she was giving him was saying otherwise; she was sure he could understand words if someone helped him. Maybe he could use someone that could just explain what words meant while he read.

Wait, that gave her an idea… "Hey, do you want to try something?"

"What is it?"

"I have multiple copies of some books, so if one copy gets damaged there's no real issue. What I was thinking is that maybe you could read one of them? Since I would have copies of any book I give you, you can underline the words you don't understand, and I'll explain."

Farkas gnawed on his lip. "I dunno...I'm really slow. You heard Njada yourself; I don't read because I can't even understand half the words."

"That's okay; not everyone can read as fast as a horse can run, can they? And you not understanding the words is why i want you to read; like I said, I'll explain the words you don't know. I want to help you understand them. I really don't mind. In the meantime, I'll find something else to do. Maybe I'll sew the holes shut on my cloak or something."

Farkas still looked hesitant, but he agreed anyway. "What should I read?"

Flynn hummed in thought. "Y'know...I think you might like Night Falls on Sentinel. It's one of my favorites. I have like, four copies of it. Having one been colored with charcoal won't be a problem."

Farkas nodded and waited for her to pull out a thin length of charcoal and a copy of the book.

"Now, underline any word you don't know. Don't be afraid; I won't laugh. We all have to start somewhere. Begin." Flynn instructed as she handed the book and charcoal to Farkas.

Farkas nodded again and began to read. Farkas hadn't been joking when he said he was slow; by the time he'd finished the book she'd finished sewing her cloak back to its former glory and had finished another book of her own (Fall of the Snow Prince was an awesome book). She didn't mind though; it was clear Farkas didn't read often, so he couldn't help it if he was slow anyway. He sheepishly handed the book to her and she took it from him, opening the book and beginning to read, noting where he'd underlined words.

 _No music played in the Nameless Tavern in Sentinel, and indeed there was very little sound except for_ _discreet_ _, cautious_ _murmurs_ _of conversation, the soft pad of the barmaid's feet on stone, and the_ _delicate_ _slurping of the regular patrons, tongues_ _lapping_ _at their flagons, eyes focused on nothing at all. If anyone were less otherwise occupied, the sight of the young Redguard woman in a fine black velvet cape might have_ _aroused_ _surprise. Even suspicion. As it were, the strange figure, out of place in an underground cellar so_ _modest_ _it had no sign, blended into the shadows.  
"Are you Jomic?"  
The __stout_ _, middle-aged man with a face older than his years looked up and nodded. He returned to his drink. The young woman took the seat next to him.  
"My name is Haballa," she said and pulled out a small bag of gold, placing it next to his mug.  
"Sure it be," snarled Jomic, and met her eyes again. "Who d'you want dead?"  
She did not turn away, but merely asked, "Is it safe to talk here?"  
"No one cares about nobody else's problems but their own here. You could take off your cuirass and dance bare-breasted on the table, and no one'd even spit," the man smiled. "So who d'you want dead?"  
"No one, actually," said Haballa. "The truth is, I only want someone ... removed, for a while. Not harmed, you understand, and that's why I need a professional. You come highly recommended."  
"Who you been talking to?" asked Jomic_ _dully_ _, returning to his drink.  
"A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend."  
"One of them friends don't know what he's talking about," grumbled the man. "I don't do that any more."_

 _Haballa quietly took out another purse of gold and then another, placing them at the man's elbow. He looked at her for a moment and then poured the gold out and began counting. As he did, he asked, "Who d'you want removed?"  
"Just a moment," smiled Haballa, shaking her head. "Before we talk details, I want to know that you're a professional, and you won't harm this person very much. And that you'll be discreet."  
"You want discreet?" the man paused in his counting. "Awright, I'll tell you about an old job of mine. It's been - by Arkay, I can hardly believe it - more 'n twenty years, and no one but me's alive who had anything to do with the job. This is back afore the time of the War of Betony, remember that?"  
"I was just a baby."  
"'Course you was," Jomic smiled. "Everyone knows that King Lhotun had an older brother Greklith what died, right? And then he's got his older sister Aubki, what married that King fella in Daggerfall. But the truth's that he had two elder brothers."  
"Really?" Haballa's eyes __glistened_ _with interest.  
"No lie," he chuckled. "_ _Weedy, feeble_ _fella called Arthago, the King and Queen's first born. Anyhow, this prince was heir to the throne, which his parents wasn't too thrilled about, but then the Queen she squeezed out two more princes who looked a lot more fit. That's when me and my boys got hired on, to make it look like the first prince got took off by the Underking or some such story."  
"I had no idea!" the young woman whispered.  
"Of course you didn't, that's the point," Jomic shook his head. "_ _Discretion_ _, like you said. We bagged the boy, dropped him off deep in an old ruin, and that was that. No fuss. Just a couple fellas, a bag, and a club."  
"That's what I'm interested in," said Haballa. "Technique. My... friend who needs to be taken away is weak also, like this Prince. What is the club for?"  
"It's a tool. So many things what was better in the past ain't around no more, just 'cause people today prefer ease of use to what works right. Let me explain: there're seventy-one __prime_ _pain centers in an average fella's body. Elves and Khajiiti, being so sensitive and all, got three and four more respectively. Argonians and Sloads, almost as many at fifty-two and sixty-seven," Jomic used his short_ _stubby_ _finger to point out each region on Haballa's body. "Six in your forehead, two in your brow, two on your nose, seven in your throat, ten in your chest, nine in your abdomen, three on each arm, twelve in your groin, four in your favored leg, five in the other."  
"That's sixty-three," replied Haballa.  
"No, it's not," growled Jomic.  
"Yes, it is," the young lady cried back, __indignant_ _that her_ _mathematical_ _skills were being question: "Six plus two plus two plus seven plus ten plus nine plus three for one arm and three for the other plus twelve plus four plus five. Sixty-three."  
"I must've left some out," shrugged Jomic. "The important thing is that to become skilled with a staff or club, you gotta be a master of these pain centers. Done right, a light tap could kill, or knock out without so much as a bruise."  
"Fascinating," smiled Haballa. "And no one ever found out?"  
"Why would they? The boy's parents, the King and Queen, they're both dead now. The other children always thought their brother got carried off by the Underking. That's what everyone thinks. And all my partners are dead."  
"Of natural causes?"  
"Ain't nothing natural that ever happens in the Bay, you know that. One fella got sucked up by one of them Selenu. Another died a that same plague that took the Queen and Prince Greklith. 'Nother fella got hisself beat up to death by a burglar. You gotta keep low, outta sight, like me, if you wanna stay alive." Jomic finished counting the coins. "You must want this fella out of the way bad. Who is it?"  
"It's better if I show you," said Haballa, standing up. Without a look back, she strode out of the Nameless Tavern.  
Jomic drained his beer and went out. The night was cool with an __unrestrained_ _wind_ _surging_ _off the water of the Iliac Bay, sending leaves flying like_ _whirling_ _shards. Haballa stepped out of the alleyway next to the tavern, and gestured to him. As he approached her, the breeze blew open her cape, revealing the armor beneath and the crest of the King of Sentinel.  
The fat man stepped back to flee, but she was too fast. In a blur, he found himself in the alley on his back, the woman's knee pressed firmly against his throat.  
"The King has spent years since he took the throne looking for you and your __collaborators_ _, Jomic. His instructions to me what to do when I found you were not specific, but you've given me an idea."  
From her belt, Haballa removed a small sturdy cudgel.  
A drunk stumbling out of the bar heard a whimpered moan accompanied by a soft whisper coming from the darkness of the alley: "Let's keep better count this time. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven..."_

Flynn nodded at all the underlined words, noting with a little pride that he hadn't underlined a lot of the words she was expecting him too. "Alright, you've got," She fingered them as she went along, "discreet, murmurs, delicate, lapping, aroused, modest, stout, dully, glistened, weedy, feeble, discretion, prime, stubby, indignant, mathematical, unrestrained, surging, whirling, and collaborators."

"I kind of understand some of the words mean." Farkas shrugged meekly, pointing at the book.

"And what words are those?"

"Feeble, discreet, lapping, and collaborators. I know aroused and weedy, but the way they were used kind of confused me." Farkas admitted sheepishly.

"Ah. I know what you probably think aroused and weedy mean; and you're not wrong! But, the words were used in different contexts, changing what they mean."

"What do they mean, then? I know weedy is describing a place full of weeds, and aroused means...uh…."

Flynn barked a short laugh. "I know. Aroused, in this context, means to evoke-er, awaken- emotions and things of the like. Not to _excite someone sexually."_ She purposefully stressed the second definition of aroused to make Farkas blush. "Weedy can be a adjective to describe a weedy place, yes, but in this context it's used to describe the prince as someone who appears thin and physically weak. Frail, even."

"Oh." Farkas simply said. "That makes sense. Then feeble means something close to that? Weak?"

"Exactly!" Flynn smiled brightly. "You're very smart, Farkas."

Farkas blushed bright red to the tips of his ears and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking to the side. "I am?"

Flynn's smile lessened slightly, recognizing Farkas's lack of confidence in his own abilities immediately. She'd seen it many times before in her frustrated students. Not to mention that the feeling was sadly familiar to her as well.

"Of course you are." She replied softly. "You...aren't told that a lot, are you?"

Farkas meekly shook his head. "Everyone always calls me icebrain and crap like that. I don't usually mind it but it kind of stings sometimes, y'know?" Farkas sighed, shifting his leg restlessly. "I act like it doesn't bother me when Aela or Vilkas say I'm dumb but...:" Farkas paused before he sighed and said, "Ugh, forget it. I dunno why I'm even telling you this."

Flynn narrowed her eyes slightly. She wouldn't pester him about this whole "icebrain" business just yet since he was obviously a little upset, but she'd bring it back up later for damn sure.

"Well, I think you're very bright, and honestly? Fuck anyone who says otherwise." She said resolutely, leaning back in her chair. "In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a student pick up vocabulary so quickly." Flynn was glad to see a beautiful smile stretch across Farkas's face as she spoke.

Farkas looked as if he were glowing. "Thank you, Flynn." He said warmly. "Now...the definitions of the other words?"

"Of course."

They continued back and forth throughout the night. Farkas asked as many questions as he could think of and Flynn answered them as best as she could. She ended up teaching him around twenty other vocab words, showing him basic grammar, how to write legibly, and how to write understandable sentences. She was surprised to see how fast Farkas picked up on how to apply the vocabulary words in sentences. In fact, she was amazed that he was picking everything up so quickly. It took him a little longer to get it, but once he did he didn't ask any more questions and he just...he knew it! Simple as that. She expressed her amazement of Farkas's speed to him, which he was bashful about, saying that he'd only ever been slow, but Flynn explained to him that he wasn't slow, and he just needed a little extra help and that there was nothing wrong with it- she'd had a lot of students like him in the past. He was surprised to learn she'd been a teacher, and she wistfully recounted her days as a teacher to Farkas after she deemed that he'd learned enough for the night.

She somehow ended up telling Farkas about the things she'd done in all the countries, telling him that Skyrim had been the only country she hadn't been to before she'd moved and that it was her by far her favorite. She told him about a few of her adventures and how almost everywhere had pretty much been ticking danger bombs she'd had to defuse, recounting her time in Ansilvund and Lu'ah Al-Skaven with glee. She was in the middle of reminiscing about her time in Elsweyr, telling Farkas about how it'd changed since the second era and her time as a barmaid in Mistral at The Boatman's Tail when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in?" She called, quirking an eyebrow at Farkas.

Hulda, the Innkeeper, stepped inside the room and looked between Flynn and Farkas before eying the parchment, ink, quills, charcoal, and books strewn about the room in mild confusion.

"Did you need something, miss?"

Flynn's call seemed to break Hulda from her stupor and she straightened herself before she asked, "I've been hearing you two talking all night. What're you two still doing up? Normally I wouldn't intrude but might I ask what's been keeping you both up until dawn?"

Flynn and Farkas both sputtered.

"It's fucking _what_ now?!" Flynn flew to her feet and knocked over books and stray charcoal sticks in her haste to get to window and peer outside.

She threw aside the curtains and sure enough, bright sunlight streamed into the room.

Flynn looked back at Farkas, who burst into surprised laughter. "Holy shit, I've been here all night!"

Flynn laughed lightly, running a hand through her mussed braid. "No shit! You got here a little after dusk and it's what, seven or eight in the morning? How in the name of Oblivion did we not conk out?"

As if on cue, Farkas yawned. "I dunno, but now that I know how long I've been up, the tiredness is hitting me like four bottles of ale at once." He stretched his back and closed his eyes for a moment before they snapped open and he sat bolt upright. "SHIT!" He yelled, leaping to his feet.

Hulda jumped at his sudden outburst. "What the matter?"

Farkas scrambled around the room and he hurriedly yanked on his boots. "My brother, that's what! Oh, gods, he's probably having a heart attack by now!" Farkas slapped his own cheeks. "Ever since the-" His eyes snapped to Hulda, and then to Flynn, "the _thing,_ he's been all protective over me!"

That made sense. "Holy shit, he's probably having an aneurysm." Flynn sucked a breath in through her teeth as she hurriedly helped Farkas gather his belongings. "He'll yell at you, won't he?"

Farkas nodded.

"I'll walk you back and explain. You just go straight to bed, I'll take the heat."

Farkas frowned at her through a stifled yawn. "Flynn, you don't have to do that."

"Ah, it's my fault anyway. C'mon, you got your stuff?"

Farkas bent over and grabbed his coat before he backtracked and brushed his fingers over Night Falls on Sentinel. "Do you...mind if I take this?"

"Of course not, you can keep it. Let's get you back home." Flynn looked at Hulda, who was still standing by the door with a slightly baffled expression. "Thank you, miss. Sorry if we kept you up."

Hulda waved her hand. "It's alright. All I could hear was muffled sound coming from here, nothing disruptive."

"Alright, good. Sorry about this mess, I'll clean it up before I leave."  
"Make sure of it. And, I'd hurry back to Jorrvaskr if I were you; someone who looks suspiciously like him burst into here a couple hours ago in a panic. His brother, I think." With that, Hulda turned heel and strode back down the hall.  
Flynn exchanged a look with Farkas before she tugged him down the hallway. She held the Inn's door open for him and shivered slightly as a cold breeze swept past her. Gods, it was chilly, even for Skyrim. She was glad Farkas had his coat. She let Farkas pass her and strode into the marketplace, waving to Fralia as she walked past the kindly woman's stall. She lead Farkas up to Jorrvaskr and dodged Mila as she came running from out of nowhere, ruffling the girl's hair as she passed. Smiling at Farkas, she opened one of the doors to Jorrvaskr and nearly laughed at the sight of the Circle gathered around the big table, muttering amongst each other worriedly.

"Where could he be?! I searched all over the city!" Vilkas cried, slamming his fist on the table. "Dammit, he could be dead!"

"Vilkas, I think you're overreacting. I'm sure he's fine. He probably just got distracted by something pretty." Skjor attempted to placate Vilkas, but his balled fists and concerned frown did little to mask his own worry.

Flynn cleared her throat and the Circle's heads all collectively swivelled to look at her, and subsequently Farkas. Vilkas looked at Farkas for all of two seconds before he leapt to his feet and stormed towards Farkas, his face twisting in fury. Before he could even yell, Flynn swept forward and covered his mouth with her hand, stopping him from whatever he was going to do to Farkas in the process.

"Shush." She simply said, before she pushed Farkas inside. "Go to bed, Farkas- Vilkas, stop biting my hand, you lunatic -I'll see you later. Try to get a little sleep."

Farkas laughed a little at his furious twin before he side-stepped around Vilkas and trotted to the living quarters before he could be bombarded with any questions. Flynn smiled softly as she heard the door close before she finally released Vilkas, who immediately rounded on her.

"Where in the name of _Oblivion_ has my brother been, you heinous bitch! Tell me right now, or I _swear I'll-!"_ Skjor placed a hand on Vilkas's shoulder, silencing the man.

"Calm yourself, Vilkas. See? Your brother is fine." Skjor muttered lowly, before he looked to Flynn. "I'd like an explanation as to why you're returning Farkas at this hour."

"He came to see me in my Inn room to personally thank me for my help in the past. As we were chatting, my friends came by to chastise me for ditching them. One of them said a word he didn't understand, so I explained it to him. Somehow this spiralled into me teaching him a bunch of new stuff, like vocab words and how to spell and shit like that. We got a little carried away." She explained as she shrugged indifferently, choosing to omit how she'd told him stories too.

"I don't believe that for a damned minute!" Vilkas spat, slapping away Skjor's hand. "What were you really doing, huh!? Answer me, dammit!"

"I'm telling the truth. Go ask your brother when he's conscious. That does not mean wake him up, though."

"He's not asleep yet!" Vilkas whirled and marched purposefully towards the living quarters before he was stopped by Aela grabbing the back of his tunic.

Aela eyed Flynn and then Vilkas before she sighed like a tired mother who was holding back her stupid child so they wouldn't do something idiotic. "Vilkas, shut up. She's telling the truth. Leave your damned brother alone."

Vilkas briefly looked like he was about to reach over and rip a supporting beam off of the railing and beat someone with it, but instead he sighed and fell silent. Flynn still felt the inward need to move him away from the stairs though; he was unnerving close to the railing and with every passing second it seemed even more likely that he might actually do what it looked like he might, even if he outwardly looked calm. Aela cautiously let go of Vilkas's tunic and he looked between all of the Circle, and cast a lingering dark look at Flynn before he stormed outside, slamming the door in his wake. Kodlak sighed, shaking his head at the closed door.

Skjor nudged Kodlak's side. "How long do you think he's going to sulk for?"

"Twenty septims on until late afternoon." Kodlak elbowed Skjor's side in response.

"Thirty says that he'll sulk until the evening."

"You're on."

Flynn looked at Skjor, and then Kodlak, and said, "If you're betting on how long he'll have his panties in a twist, is it crass of me to assume that he's a dramatic little bitch?"

Aela burst into surprised laughter and exchanged an amused but incredulous look with Skjor. Speaking of Skjor, the man was trying and failing to not laugh as well and stifled it behind his hand, leaning forward to hide his grin before he ultimately broke and burst into raucous laughter. Kodlak was in the same predicament as Skjor but held on markedly well, only letting out stifled chuckles through his clenched fist. If she didn't know better, Flynn would think he was simply coughing.

Aela stumbled forward and clapped a strong hand on Flynn's shoulder, "Oh, I can tell that he's going to _love_ you." She gasped out through snorting laughs. "You'll fit in here just fine. Welcome home, sister."

Skjor pinched his brow. "Shor's bones, you can't just say shit like that, Flynnigan." His wide grin that was partially hidden by his bowed head betrayed his somewhat harsh words.

Kodlak ignored Skjor and turned to Aela. "Aela, she hasn't joined us yet." Kodlak leaned tiredly against the table, his mirth dying away slowly.

Aela looked surprised to hear this, and turned to Flynn. "What are you waiting for, then?"

Flynn went to say that she wasn't going to join, but paused. Farkas had all but begged her to join...and she had told him yes. She'd meant it too. She was having second thoughts and yet…

"I initially was going to give Kodlak an answer on whether or not I would stay this afternoon, but after my night with Farkas, I think I'll stick around." Flynn paused. How could she explain why she'd stay without giving away her affection for Farkas? Letting everyone know how attached she'd already gotten to him would be embarrassing. "...From the stories he's shared, this place seems alright." She said lamely.

Aela quirked a coy eyebrow. "I'm glad to hear that you're staying, but the way you worded part of that statement was a little odd. What kind of night did you have with him, exactly?"

Aela's sultry face gave away what she was implying, so Flynn shoved her gently. "You heard me. I was teaching him crap. I mean, we also swapped stories, but generally it was just me teaching him."

"You really were teaching him, then?" Skjor frowned disbelievingly as he shifted his weight onto one leg.

"No, _clearly_ I was sucking the life out of his dick." Flynn said flatly, inwardly smirking at their startled expressions in the face of her bluntness. "Yes, I really was teaching him."

Skjor shook himself. "Doing the Divine's work right there, Flynnigan." Skjor huffed a laugh as he squeezed Flynn's shoulder. "Boy's called Ice-brain for a reason. How frustrating was it?"

Oh, fuck no.

Flynn batted Skjor's hand away, feeling her face twist in muted fury. "He was perfectly fine, for your information! He's not stupid, not in the slightest! Why, I don't think I've ever had a student pick things up so quickly! It just takes him a little longer to get it, but once he does, he knows it! You're all just terrible teachers!" She crossed her arms tightly and pursed her lips, glaring at Skjor with as much spite as she could muster to get her point across.

Skjor raised a gray eyebrow at her insistence and frowned softly. "Really? He understood?"

"Yes." Flynn bit out. "In fact, he even commented on how easy it was to understand me. He said you all, especially Vilkas, always make things too complicated and you confuse him more. Poor man's been struggling with basic literary skills and I taught him a shitload of things in one night."

"Well, I'll be damned." Aela blew out a long breath. "What're you going to shock us with next? Has he finally picked up a book too?"

Flynn felt her eye twitch. "He likes Night Falls on Sentinel. He thought the plot-twist at the end was a huge surprise and he pointed out the foreshadowing when he read it again." She said curtly, tightening her arms.

The mead hall was silent for a long moment. It seemed that no one was even breathing.

It was Kodlak who broke the silence first. "Well, there's something I never thought I'd hear. By Ysgramor, what've you done to the boy?" Kodlak chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Truly remarkable. I suppose I shouldn't be shocked; the past day was full of surprises, and you were the source of them all. I digress, though. Well, if he's as bright as you say, keep teaching him. Boy could use it." Kodlak pushed himself up from the great table, patting a shell-shocked Skjor on the shoulder. "Come, old friend. It has been a long night; it's time to rest, even if it's morning now. I suppose the whelps could use a day off, huh? Come along too, Aela."

Aela stared at Flynn in utter wonder for a long moment before she followed behind Skjor. Flynn bid the three Circle members good night and stood there alone for a long moment, unsure of what to do with herself. The eyed the door that Vilkas had stormed out of and frowned. He sure was a moody person. Still, Farkas seemed to care about him deeply, so she'd hold her tongue around him as best as she could. She was, in a roundabout way, pleased to see Vilkas acting so vibrant, so alive. Sure, he was being a dick, but it was a far cry from the broken man she'd healed in Fellglow. It made her happy to know he was doing alright, even if he was outside sulking in the midst of a...freezing morning. While wearing a thin tunic and no shoes, if she remembered correctly. Probably lowering his immune system defenses because he was too exposed to the cold air. And was probably going to get the Rattles if she didn't drag his ass inside since she didn't spend three days healing his stupid ass just for him to get downed by the Rattles for a week or two.

Pursing her lips, she narrowed her eyes and strode outside. Vilkas was sitting on a chair and burning a hole through a table with his eyes. He turned to see who'd come outside and glared viciously at her as she walk towards him.

"What the fuck do you want-" She grabbed his wrist and dragged him to his feet. "Hey! Get off of me!" He slapped at her wrist very hard in an effort to make her reflexively open her hand, but she resisted and yanked him inside.

She all but threw him through the door and closed it behind her, affixing a stern glare at him. "Stay inside. It's cold as Atmora outside and you're not even wearing shoes."

"Like Oblivion! I'm a Nord, you stupid Redguard!"

Flynn kicked him as gently as she could without it looking like she was trying to be gentle and pressed her back against the door, crossing her arms resolutely. "Uh-huh, that's nice. Nords can still get the damned Rattles if they sulk outside clad only in a thin tunic in the middle of Evening Star!"

"I was not sulking!"

"Yeah, and I'm not a Redguard!" Flynn scowled. "Go sit by the damned fire, you stupid oaf."

"Who are you calling a stupid oaf?!" Vilkas leapt to his feet and shoved Flynn's chest, making her head bonk against the door.

Flynn made a show of looking around the mead hall, noting the other Companions who were staring at them curiously from the stairs. "Oh, I dunno. Maybe I'm calling the only idiot who's in front of me a stupid oaf!"

"Why, you little-!"

"Little?!" Flynn cut him off. "Who are you calling little?! You're the one who only comes up to my tits!"

Vilkas stopped short for a second before he said, "And those are what I'm calling little."

Without even blinking, Flynn swung a devastating punch towards Vilkas's head. Her fist collided with the side of his skull, and her knuckles made an ungodly cracking noise before immediately exploding with pain. Vilkas stumbled to the side and swayed for all of three seconds before he toppled over, out-cold. She heard a small "Oh shit" come from one of the girls who was watching everything go down by the stairs. She stared at his crumpled body and without missing a beat, she leaned over and slung Vilkas over her shoulder. Sighing, she performed a healing spell on her broken hand and on Vilkas's head before she strode towards the living quarters.

"You." She looked sharply at one of the girls, who squeaked in terror. "Lead me to this idiot's room. I think wittle Wilkas can use a nap." She mocked.

"I think he's already taking one." A blond man slurred, leaning against the wall casually, to which his buddies looked at him like he was insane.

Flynn stared at him for a long moment and he held his hands up in surrender, walking up the stairs. She watched him walk upstairs and ignored the sound of the living quarters door opening until she heard Farkas gasp.

"What happened?!" He cried, his hands hovering over his brother.

Flynn frowned. "You should be asleep."

"I know that, but I heard yelling and- Ysgramor's axe, hold him upright! His blood's going to his face!"

Flynn sighed and rotated Vilkas in her arms, shushing him as he let out a disoriented groan and shifted. She settled him in a bridal style hold and quirked a stern eyebrow at Farkas.

"Go back to bed, Farkas."

"Uh, no? What happened to my brother?"

"He's fine." Flynn reassured Farkas, rocking Vilkas gently to hopefully make him actually fall asleep since knockout induced sleep was not the same thing. "I healed him after I knocked him out."

Farkas looked like he had a million questions and held out his hands in a "what the fuck" gesture. "Why did you knock him out!?"

"He said my boobs were small."

Farkas opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely at a loss for words, and looked to the other Companions for confirmation. The two girls nodded, and the dark elf said,

"He was kind of being a dick. She brought him inside because it's cold out and she was worried he'd catch the Rattles, and he just went off on her."

One of the girls, who was wearing a helmet, nodded. "She all but threw him inside and told him to get warm by the fire. He called her a stupid Redguard and she basically told him to go fuck himself. Wish I had the balls to do that." She snorted before she strode back upstairs.

The other girl sheepishly supplied, "It was less of "go fuck yourself" and more of her just responding to his insults with meaner ones. He started it, though."

Farkas looked helplessly between Vilkas and Flynn before he sighed, rubbing his face. "I'm too tired for this crap. Come on, just get him into bed before he wakes up and tries to kill you. And, for the record, don't assault your Shield-Siblings, okay? Not cool, even if he did start it."

Flynn rolled her eyes but hummed an "mhm" anyway, following Farkas into the living quarters. She raised her eyebrows in greeting to Tilma, who peered at Vilkas curiously but said nothing. She trailed after Farkas to Vilkas's room, bending over slightly so she wouldn't hit her head on the chandelier. She laid him on his bed and turned to Farkas.

"Go back to sleep, Farkas. Look, he's alright." She gestured loosely to Vilkas's prone body.

"I will," Farkas sighed, "just...you saved his life. You took the time to heal him and return him to us. Don't kill him and waste your effort, yeah? I know he's kind of an asshole, but I promise he's a good person."

"You're acting like we just got into a huge, world-shattering fight that ended in tears and words we didn't mean. He just called my boobs small."

Farkas shook his head. "I know, it's just…" Farkas frowned at his brother. "If it wasn't for me, he would've fallen out with a lot of people. I know this was small, but this could just spiral into a bigger fight later. So, I'm telling you now, don't...don't…"

"Don't...take it so seriously, because deep down he probably cares?" Flynn supplied cautiously.

Farkas blew out a breath and laughed quietly. "Yeah, exactly."

Flynn nodded slowly, before squeezing Farkas's shoulder. "Off to bed with you, now."

Farkas elbowed her side softly in response. "Will do." He left the room and Flynn waited until she heard a door close before she padded to Vilkas's bedside.

She eased herself into the chair next to him and studied his face for a minute. He breathed softly and evenly, his left cheek smushed against his pillow. He looked...positively adorable. She let her shoulders relax and she felt her face soften. It was really weird of her, but she did like watching people sleep. It was nice to see someone look so utterly relaxed. She frowned at herself. Ugh, it was like she had a non-sexual kink for sleeping people. Letting the thought go, she sighed softly and reached towards Vilkas's face. She let her palm rest against his right cheek, and ever so slowly, she brushed the hair from his face. And there was a scar. A white, old-looking scar that she knew was not old running down his eye. She thumbed the scar, feeling a strange sense of sadness wash over her.

And suddenly, she could not see the Vilkas that was sleeping in his bed, safe and sound. All she could see was the terrified Vilkas, the one who was curled in a ball, shaking like a leaf in front of her. All she could see was him screaming himself awake, and all she could see was his distraught, delirious face as he sobbed his heart out after a feverish nightmare. She could almost hear an echo of herself soothing him with meaningless sweet words and shushes, and she could almost feel her hand comfortingly sifting through his soft hair. Her fingers curled into a fist, and she pulled herself away from him. Vilkas was fine. He was safe with his family. And yet...

The scar on his face was a reminder. A reminder of everything that had happened to him. He'd wake up every morning, he'd look in the mirror, and he'd think of Fellglow. He'd think of the days rotting in a cell as he hoped that someone would save him. He'd think of how he could not save himself, and hate himself for it. He'd think of what those awful mages had done to him. And he'd think of the kindly dark-skinned woman who saved him, who held him through his hazy days of sickness, and he'd wonder who she was. He'd wonder why she'd bothered. And he'd touch the scar on his face and wonder, after all she had done, why the scar had been left behind.

And to her, the scar on his face was a reminder. A reminder of a patient she hadn't healed all the way because she wasn't good enough. A reminder that she couldn't save him in time to stop the suffering. A reminder that she couldn't save everyone, no matter how hard she tried. A reminder that she could try as hard as she wanted, but she'd always fail someone like she'd almost failed him. If she had found him earlier, even minutes earlier, she could have kept the scar from marring his face. If she had found him minutes later, he could be dead. But she found him when she had, and that would have to be enough. She'd saved him as well as she could have, though she should've been able to do more.

She closed her eyes.

She knew that every day she spent in Jorrvaskr, until the day she died, she'd see the scar on his face and she'd hate it.

It broke her heart to know he'd feel the same.

She reached forward once again and tucked his hair behind his ear, and almost as an after-thought, she bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. Right where she'd punched him. Now that it was all said and done, she was kind of ashamed of herself. It was no matter though; it was done, and she couldn't change it. All she could do was make it up to him. Subtly though, because she wasn't going to apologize directly. He'd probably hit her or something.

"Sorry." She whispered to him anyway.

She reached over and pulled Vilkas's blanket over him properly, and laid a hand on his head for a long moment. She stood there and after a heartbeat, she cast a calming spell on him to help him sleep. Sighing at herself, she rose from her chair and tip-toed out of the room, and closed the door softly.

Vilkas sat up in bed and stared at the door for very, very long moment. He closed his eyes, and laid back down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, feeling oddly calm...and he wondered.

* * *

Flynn ducked into the Inn and strode to her room. She chucked the remnants of her night with Farkas into her bag and flopped on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was odd. She'd been up all night, she hadn't slept. She'd last slept the previous day and woken up to the early morning. She'd actually gone over twenty-four hours without sleep, and yet...she didn't feel tired at all. Now that she thought about it, she did this kind of thing a lot. She would just stay awake for no damn reason, even if she was tired. Eventually she'd just pass out without even realizing it.

Like…

Like she'd already done.

Vaguely, she was aware that she'd fallen asleep, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The mattress was so soft, so comfortable, she felt like she could just let it swallow her and be fine with it. She sank lower and lower into the soft material, until she'd gone all the way through. She was on the floor. She'd fallen through the bed. She scowled. She wanted to lay on the bed. She stood up and looked around. She wasn't in the Inn anymore, it was dark. She looked around for the...what was she looking for? She had to go, she had to go defeat-

Her body screamed and burned. Her head throbbed. No, no, no.

 _ **"Zu'u fen ni oblaan!"**_

The grass was soft. She liked grass. It was soft against her knees and she sat there in the middle of the garden. Her garden. By the gods, she loved her garden. The sweet scent of dragon tongues, mountain flowers, nightshade flowers, deathbells, and juniper wafted in the air, mixed with other flowers and fauna she could not pinpoint. She looked around and smiled. The flowers were in bloom, ready for harvesting and pruning. She stood, and white fabric tumbled down to her lower knees. She was wearing a dress. It was a pretty dress. She closed her eyes and sighed. She was at peace.

And she was not.

She opened her eyes, and everything was burnt. The scent of the flowers was gone. Her flowers were gone, burnt to little more than ash. It was ruined, all of it was ruined. Her dress was torn and charred, stained black with soot. Smoke hung in the air, the stench of it cloying. Anger boiled in her chest. She had been happy.

She would not forgive them.

The world burned.

 _ **You, there. Step forward. Who...are you?**_

The grass was burning; she was burning. She was not wearing a dress anymore. She could not speak, there was something in her mouth. There was a scared man with greasy, mousey brown hair and skittish, black eyes. He was sobbing. There was a man with hair spun of the finest of gold, gagged too. He looked pensive. He looked resigned. There was a man with kind blue eyes who spoke somewhat cheerfully despite future promises of nothing good.

There was an Imperial man driving the cart. She knew him. Her chest burned. She hated him.

She punched the back of his head, and her hands were bound behind her back this time.

Glowing, red eyes. Wings dark as night. Teeth that glinted like blades.

 _ **Zu'u fen ni oblaan!**_

She was afraid. There was fire, so much fire. So much blood. So many scared people. She lead as many as she could away. She had to save them. She saved them.

A woman with kind, dark eyes, and hair the color of ebony. She had a boy strapped to her hip, who had a bright smile. Another woman with dirty blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. A crooked grin. A man with sandy brown hair and soft, hazel eyes that spoke of sorrow within.

She loved them all.

She took her first step into freedom.

She was alive.

 _ **I know you probably aren't interested, but we would be honored to have you as a Companion.**_

There is a building that looks like an upturned boat. That's essentially what is it, and she thinks it's silly. There is a man with flowing white hair and a gravelly voice, bent over a fiery forge with sweat dripping down his arms. He loves her.

There is a man with a blind eye and a victorious smile. His voice is smooth and kind, though he keeps it hardened to hide his soft heart. He loves her.

There is a man with a fruity voice and a sad smile. His eyes are old and his heart longs for what he feels he is unworthy of. By the gods, he loves her.

There are two men with hair dark as night and eyes two jagged shards of ice. They are both brilliant in their own ways, and very near and dear to her heart. They love her.

There is a woman with blazing, red hair and vibrant, green warpaint. Her grin is crooked and savage, and though she is detached she could not be more warm. She loves her.

And then there are two boys that she loves like they are her own. One is short, thin, with dark hair. The other is tall, muscular, with sandy hair. They have similar crooked grins. They love her.

She looks around and she smiles.

For the first time in her life, she belongs.

And that's when it all changes. The sad-smiling man with old eyes is dead, and her heart weeps like it has never done before. She curses him for leaving her. And there is a book, bound by well-worn leather. She reads.

 _You are someone worth saving, Ishtar. Keep smiling._

She sobs instead.

 _ **And when the world shall listen, and when the world shall see, and when the world remembers...  
That world shall cease to be.**_

Melancholy clings to her, she cannot breathe through her own pain. Time does not seem to touch her. She does not eat, drink, nor sleep and yet she lives. She feels like she is dying, but she is not. There is a soft, loving face and warm, red eyes.

" _Eat something, sweetpea."_

She eats, and smiles around the venison. Somehow, he knew it was her favorite. She is thankful for him. She takes another bite, and he smiles. He is happy to see that she is healing.

There is a man, with a shaved head and strong arms. His hands are rough and powerful. His words are confident and sweet. Though he is kind, his heart is guarded. He is afraid of love. He is sad about something he speaks not of. His eyes are warm, his lips are soft.

She loves him. He does not love her.

Another scar.

The world is singing, the world is bright. She loves the world, the world loves her. The wind plays with her hair, the dark strands flutter serenely in the air. The grass is tickling her, whispering meaningless words. The world is singing, and suddenly she is crying.

Everything hurts. Everything is black, she cannot breathe.

 _Please, Gods, let me die. I don't need this. I never wanted this. Let me be happy. I can't do this anymore._

The book bound in well-worn leather is open next to her.

 _You are someone worth saving, Ishtar. Keep smiling._

Her heart aches.

 _I need to fight. He's watching me. I can do this, I know I can. I can't leave the world to die._

She stands. Everything is golden. Herself. She is glowing. Her whole being is trembling with her own power. She is alive. She would not die like this. Not now, not ever. She will be the savior once more. She rises, and for the first time she sees him afraid. A brilliant, golden flash of light. A disembodied voice began to scream, roaring in anger. The blackness is flung away, and so is she. She is hurtling in the air, crashing through layers upon layer of magic. Everything is burning, she is screaming. She will not die. Her sight is blurry, her eyes are watering. The world comes into focus, and it's coming closer. Too close, too fast.

She lands, and the world explodes.

Her hair is white.

She is at peace.

 _ **There is no solace in knowing what is to come.**_

She is home.

There is a man with fluttering, gray hair and an excited smile. He is so happy, it's almost blinding. He is very kind; she likes him almost immediately. He begs her to come with him, and she does. There is magic, so much magic. She throws herself into it. Everyone watches in awe. More talented than Shalidor, some whisper.

There is another man, an orc with fading hair and a grumpy face. He is very stern, but she knows he means the best. He does not act like it, but he cares very much about her. She is one of the only students he likes, she overhears. She smiles. She likes him too.

Trouble begins to brew. Why does it follow her everywhere?

She is looking into shimmering, blue light. A voice is speaking, it is everywhere and nowhere at once. The voice is slow and deliberate. It has a strange sense of sorrow surrounding it. She feels upset. _You are magic, Ishtar Alanis, the world bends to you,_ He says.

She wants to cry.

She leaves in the night in search of something.

Her eyes are soft and loving. Her hair is spun of soft grasses, colored like the reeds in rivers. Her face is tense, yet gentle. Her words are born of love, she is the brilliant sun. She is sad, but so, so brilliant. Her skin is freckled and smooth. It is a beautiful bronze. She is so beautiful, on the outside and on the inside.

She loves the woman. The woman does not love her.

Another scar.

She's in a crypt, and he's there. He looks sad. _I'm sorry I couldn't help you._ She has a staff. _Why am I using a staff? I don't even like staffs._ A pair of crazed eyes, crackling light. Everything is bright, it's too bright. Stone is floating in the air, twirling forlornly in the air. The world is tearing at the very seams. Everything hurts. _I won't let you do this!_ Bright, bright light. Loud. It's so loud. She's flying, she lands. It hurts, it all hurts. She needs to know. Is everyone okay? Is the man with the excited smile okay? She needs to make sure he's okay before she-

 _ **Sleep well?**_

It smells sickly sweet, and it smells of rot. The smell of death. _ **She'll**_ _hurt my family. I have to do this, I have to protect them until I'm sure._ She hates it here. She hates herself. Everything is burning again. Please, let her keep them safe. Can't she do anything right?

Everyone is hiding somewhere safe, supposedly dead yet still alive. She says she is sorry, that it will be alright. She is not sure that she believes her own words. She is crying, clinging to a boy not yet a man clad in Imperial armor that she does not recognize.

" _I'm sorry."_ She sobs _. "I'm so, so sorry. If I could change things, I would, but I can't. Not yet."_

There is a woman with short, dark hair and a beautiful heart. Her hands are soft and small, her skin is smooth and soft. She has a smattering of freckles on her face and a thin line of blue paint streaked across her cheeks. Her eyelashes are soft and long. She is sad, she is broken. She picks up the pieces, falling in love with every one of them, and puts the woman back together.

She loves the woman. The woman does not love her.

Another scar.

Her hands are shaking. The Emperor is dead, but he is not. It was a lie. A man stands before her, holding back tears. They trickle down his cheeks anyway.

She wipes them away with four words.

" _Your son is alive."_ She tells him, and grabs his hand.

She shows him the truth. Her heart aches at the joy on their faces.

The cave is burning, the smoke is cloying. She is going to die. She does not.

 **She** is sorry. **She** is dead.

Goodbye, Darkness.

It is not over.

" _And once again, I prove Commander Maro the fool."_

Why can't it be over?

She is sorry, she is so, so sorry.

" _Keep Tamriel safe for me, n̡̧r̛͢҉o͠͝b͝ǹ̷͡o̶̢͢͏̷g͏a̸̶͢͟͢r̵̛d̶̕͝"_

It's a promise she intends to keep. It's over.

 _ **It appears Gallus's history has repeated itself.**_

Soft, red hair. A chiseled chin she's held before. She knows him, she does not. A boy with matted hair with sad, brown eyes. He is crying. She saves him. She bathes him, clothes him, cuts his hair. She kisses his tears away and heals his broken heart. He looks like someone she knows. She takes him under her wing. He is the night.

There is another with sad brown eyes. His hair is not matted, though it is a mess. He has an angry heart that she soothes. His beard is small, shaved clean. His mouth is crass yet soft, his heart is cold yet warm. He is mean, rude. He is soft, kind. He is beautiful. He shares his secrets to her, she shares hers. They are close.

She loves him. He does not love her.

Another scar.

She will not die. She will _not_ die. Not like this, not ever. She has to keep living, she has to! She can't move. For the first time in a long time, she is afraid.

She is safe. A kind, soft face, and warm, red eyes.

" _Easy, easy. Don't get up so quickly. How are you feeling?"_

She is alive. She has business to finish. Her heart is burning.

She is furious.

 _If anyone falls, it will be you._

 _ **I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil!**_

This is her redemption. She has been dark for too long. Let her be light again.

He is her friend, her brother. She loves him dearly. He loves her. They are as close as kin.

He is afraid. He sees the elves and he sees danger. He sees pain. He is so, so tired. He needs her help.

She helps.

Strategy upon strategy. Fight after fight. The fight is not over.

There is a man with graying hair and a sad face. He is so, so tired. He wants it to end.

There tense, yet gentle face that she recognizes. Her warm, soft eyes are now cold, hard. She oozes of betrayal, and gazes at her with a sadness she feels too. Her hair is spun of soft grasses, colored like the reeds in river. But those reeds are streaked with gray. The hands that once held her so softly are shaking.

She cannot kill her. She refuses.

He smiles sadly, though he is relieved.

She throws aside her blade and extends her hand, Skyrim is at peace.

The world is not.

They march on the battlefield. She screams a speech to inspire men who do not need to fight. She knows they will not. She knows what she must do. She smiles, but she is crying.

She is clad in white, there is a smiling mask covering her face. Her hair is flowing in the wind like an angry banner. The wind is crying. She is crying. The world is crying. She does not want to do this, but she must.

She is so, so sorry. Everything is golden. Herself. She is glowing. She rises and the world rises with her. Her whole being is trembling with her own power. She will not be a savior; she will be a pariah. Everything is burning, she is screaming. She will not die. Her sight is blurry, her eyes are watering. She sees them all. Her light is terrible, terrifying. Her heart is screaming. The world is screaming. She lets it go.

There is a brilliant flash, and one million screams at once.

And the battlefield is silent. The world is silent.

Thousands of elven faces look up at her at once.

They all crumble to dust.

No one moves, the world holds its breath.

The war is over in one fell swoop. The enemy, everyone single one is dead. Her side is not. They are the victors, though they do not feel as if they have won.

She has never hated herself more.

The world wonders, was this worth it? Was it worth the cost? What have we done to ourselves?

She falls. The White Queen falls, and no one is there to catch her.

There is a paradigm shift, and men and mer unite.

 _ **"So who are you? What do you want?"**_

She has seen him before. His eyes are silver like hers, but he is no werewolf, and he is not family. She has healed him, saved him so many times. She knows him, he does not know her.

He is beautiful, he is so, so beautiful. His eyes are gorgeous and bely the emotion the churns in his hidden heart. His lips are full and shiny. His nose is angular and pointed. His cheekbones are high and sharp enough to cut. His head is shaved, his beard is not. He is small, but not fragile. He is loving and kind, yet brusque and callous. She wonders where she's seen this before. He is lovely.

His skin is dark and smooth. He looks like he was crafted from the Divines themselves. His arms are strong, his legs are shapely. His back is muscular and strong. His chest is chiselled and hard. He is gorgeous.

She is a lot like him. He is a lot like her.

She hates herself. He hates himself.

She sees herself when she looks at him.

He sees himself when he looks at her.

She hates him. He hates her.

There is a girl with glowing red eyes and cold skin. Her nose is soft, her eyes are too. Her skin is made of ivory, her hair spun of ebony. She is beautiful. She is dead, but alive. She loves the girl as if she is her own. The girl is sad and is in need of someone who understands. She understands. They are close. She hates the pain the girl has gone through. She will protect her with her dying breath.

She still hates him. He still hates her.

And then, it changes. She loves him, he loves her. There are no scars.

She loves him, he loves her, but they are not together. She is afraid of hurting him when she must face her fate, the fate she knows not of yet.

There is a bow that gleams the brightest gold. It shimmers in a sun. It fits in her hand as if it were made for her. Perhaps it was a long, long time ago.

Someone is screaming. _Your own father!_ A voice shrieks. The girl is relieved, but she is crying. She wraps her arms around her and tells her that it will be alright, that she is loved. She remembers who spoke the same words to her a long, long time ago, and she smiles sadly. She is him to this girl.

The man crafted from the very Divines is there. He makes a show of kicking the ashes of whoever had died to make the girl laugh. He laughs too, and brandishes a sword at them mockingly.

She loves him so much.

She wants to kiss him. She wants to make love to him. She wants to court him. She wants to marry him.

She frowns.

She cannot have him.

She cannot hurt him by leaving him alone when he finally has her.

She cannot give him her love and take it all away when she must die.

For she can run from her fate no longer.

 _ **You may have picked up the weapons of my ancient foes, but you are not their equal!**_

There are glowing, red eyes burning through hers. There are black wings that blot out the sun above. There are sharp teeth that glint light blades. She has seen this before. She was afraid of it then, but she is afraid no longer. She is at peace.

Words ring in her head.

 _When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world  
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped  
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles  
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls  
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding  
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last_

 _The Last n̡̧r̛͢҉o͠͝b͝ǹ̷͡o̶̢͢͏̷g͏a̸̶͢͟͢r̵̛d̶̕͝_

 _The Last b̛́͝ó̸̵͟͟r̨̢n̵̶̡͡d̵̴̢̛҉r̵̡͜҉̀á̢̨̛g̛͏̧o̸ņ̶̷̢͢_

 _ **The Final D̛̀͟Ŗ̀͞A̢҉G͏͜͠O͏̨N͠B̶̧̀͏O̴̷̡͟͟R̴̕̕͝N͡͏̵́͡**_

Her head is screaming. Her body is burning. She doesn't know why, she can't know why. It does not make sense, she cannot comprehend. She is screaming.

Ş̸͡T̶̸̶́͜O̷̢͢P̨̀͡͠ ̶̢S̡̧̕͢͡T̷̢͘O̸͜͡P͘҉̸́̀ ̧̢̨͞S̴҉̴́T̷̡́͜͜O̵P̷̶

It is bleed̴̡́͟͝į́n̵̵̶g̡̕͢ ̡̛a̕̕ń̶͟͡͠d̛͞͏ ̢͠҉b҉̶̷̶̧r̶̕ò͟͞҉k҉ȩ̶̛͜͠n̶̶͢҉. She has won. She toù͡c̶̨̕͠h̶̨̡e̵҉s̷͠ ̴͡į͠t͡҉'̢͜͝͞s̷͘͟ ͏͏͏͢ņ̵̢̛͘ǫ͜͠͞҉s̸̨̧͜͠è̕ ҉͢͞҉a͘̕͏n̵̛ḑ́͏̛ ̧̢́͡s̸̢͡à͡y͞͏́s̸̵̛͡ ̴́s̀͜o̵̴͜͟f̴̕͠tly,

 _I'm sorry._

 _Ņ̷̧̀͜O̴͡͏ ̶̛Ń͠O͏͜҉͜ ̴̨N̶̴̡̛͜O̡͠_

It ì͠s̀̕͢ ͘͝͏a̢҉͢f̧̀͡͞͞r̀͘aid. It doe͏̡̛̀͠s̷̸̀ ͏̴̴͞n͘̕o̴͢t̕ ̶͡w̸͞a̶̢n̴̛ţ̴̀͝͏ ̶̸̷͜͟t̵̸o die.

N̵͠O̢̢͜T̡͟ ̶̷Y̵͟Ȩ̛̀T̨̀ ̶̀͡N̵͘O̴͡͡T́͡ ̡̡͡͝Y̷̶͘͠È̸̷͡T̵̛́͝ ̀̕͢N͢͏̸͘͞Ǫ͘͟T̷̕̕ ̨̕͞Y͏̕͜͠É̕̕͟͠T̸̶

There is a being before her. It's very existence is incomprehensible to her mind, for she is mortal and he is Divine. She knows who it is. She looks up at him and asks one question.

" _Why? Why was it me?"_

He says.

" _Because you were someone worth saving."_

He raises his hand and sends her crashing into the Throat of the World.  
Á̷̢̨͝Ĺ͠҉́͟D͘͏̵Ư̕͜I̴̶͢N̶̢̨͜͢ ̴̴̡̀͝M̶͏̡̛͡A̛̕͏͟H̛́L̶̶͘A̧̡̧͠A̡͘͝Ņ̵

Her scream echoes to the deepest, darkest corners of Tamriel.

 _When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world  
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped  
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles  
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls  
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding  
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last-_

* * *

Flynn sat bolt upright, and her head immediately swam. Her throat felt raw. She could not breathe. Her heart hammered away in her chest. She felt cold.

She was _terrified._

Someone was pushing her back down.

"No, NO!" She screamed, clawing at their hands. _"GET AWAY FROM ME!"_

"Flynnigan, calm down!"

She struggled harder and whoever was touching her and yelling was flung away from her. She hurled herself off of whatever she was laying on, and her palms slapped against the tiled floor. She was shaking and sweating. She needed to- she need to say _something._

Someone grabbed her arm and hoisted her up. She suddenly felt tired. She could barely move. Her chest was burning. The world began to darken at the edges.

"She's going down, get a sedative!" Someone yelled.

Someone smoothed her hair back. Why wasn't it in a braid?

A gravelly but soft voice whispered soothingly. "Hey, shhh. You're not in danger, breathe."

She was not breathing. She sucked in a breath and coughed harshly. Strength returned. She whirled to see someone familiar, someone she knew but could not place. His hair was as dark as night, and his eyes were like jagged shards of ice. He was brilliant in his own special way. Someone handed something to him, and he put it to her lips and told her to drink. Fatigue washed over her like a wave. He, though smaller than her, lifted her into his arms and laid her on something soft but firm.

She was falling asleep, but she had to- she needed to say something. She needed to say it. He was walking away. She flung her hand out and grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip. She looked into his startled eyes and with fading breath, she uttered,

"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world  
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped  
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles  
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls  
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding  
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."

Her eyes fell closed, and she knew no more.

* * *

Kodlak closed the door to his quarters behind himself with as much quietness as he could muster. Hearing no activity in the living quarters, he retired to his bed and laid down, reveling in the softness of his mattress and feeling the tension in his old back leaking away. He sighed deeply and stared at the clay ceiling above him for a long period of time, lost in his thoughts. Flynnigan truly was a remarkable person. Despite the lack of time they'd spent together, he found she'd made a huge impression on him. He found himself worrying about her despite his lack of familiarity with her. He'd heard she'd been found in a near comatose state in the Bannered Mare and had been brought to the Temple of Kynareth four days ago, and though she was fine, she had yet to wake. Farkas mostly stuck by her side and only returned to Jorrvaskr when he had to sleep. Kodlak chuckled underneath his breath; Farkas was such a caring person.

He frowned once again. He had heard from Farkas that Flynnigan had been screaming and crying in her sleep sometimes, though. This did not bode well. He hoped she was alright.

Kodlak sighed. He was thinking to much about things he could not help. He needed to distract himself. Kodlak eased himself into a sitting position and fumbled on his night stand for ink, a quill, and his matches. He lit the candles on his night stand before he fumbled in the drawer inside of it, withdrawing his journal. Wiping stray dust off of it, he flipped open the well worn cover and flipped the ink-covered pages until he came upon the next blank one. Dipping his quill in his ink, he began to feverishly scratch away at the paper.

 _Fortune smiles upon us._

 _I was doing paperwork four or five days ago when Aela burst into my quarters with an uncharacteristic amount of excitement. She reported that the woman responsible for saving Vilkas and Farkas' very lives was currently at Jorrvaskr. In my fatigue due to my vast amount of paperwork, it took me a moment to collect myself. I scrambled to follow Aela and Skjor to the training yard to collect the twins when we heard laughter from the Skyforge. We ascended the steps to see a young Redguard woman chatting with Eorlund, the latter of which who looked almost unnervingly excited. My heart nearly leapt to my throat; it was the woman I had seen in the dream I've written about earlier except...she looks different. In my dream, she was crying. Her hair was a snowy white and cut short. This woman is no doubt her, and yet...her hair is long and black. I wonder what this could mean?_

 _But, I digress. We went to thank her for her help regarding Farkas and Vilkas, and while she seemed to have no qualms about us speaking of Farkas, she silenced us when it came to Vilkas. It appears that for some reason she doesn't want Vilkas to know who she is. I feel it is unfair on the boy for him to be left in the dark, but I will respect her apparent wishes for now. To my surprise, she figured out rather quickly that we were werewolves. She doesn't appear to have any qualms about this either, and I feel that I can trust her to keep this secret, as foolish as this may sound to others._

 _Skjor and I brought her downstairs so we could thank her properly. There, she told us her name. Flynnigan, though she calls herself Flynn. The way she said it was odd; I don't believe that is her true name, but I'll leave it be for now. It's not my business for now. She told us a brief synopsis of her time in Skyrim and there is no doubt in my mind that she is an incredibly capable warrior. I am unsure how she will play into my fate, but I feel that she is someone important. Only time can tell._

 _Either way, I'm excited to see how she develops as a warrior of Jorrvaskr. She seems to have taken a huge liking to Farkas (By Talos, she's teaching the lad how to read!) and she's already decided to join us. I am worried about how she'll get along with Vilkas as they both seem to be as hot-blooded as they come, but I can tell she will at least be well-loved by everyone else. In fact, I was surprised to see how quickly Skjor has taken to her._

 _I do find myself rather concerned for her, though. She was found in a near comatose state four days ago, and has yet to wake. This alone is terrible, but what worries me most is that she is completely fine. Healer upon healer has come by, and they've found absolutely zero traces of poison in her. Farkas, the sweet boy he is, has barely left her side. I fear that if she doesn't wake soon, the poor boy might lay eggs! Other than that, I wonder what has her sleeping for so long...if it is sleep at all._

 _Moving on from Flynnigan, until we can pursue a true cure, the twins and I have chosen not to give in to the beastblood. For me, it's provided a clearer head, but Vilkas seems to be suffering a bit for it. Farkas seems completely untroubled. That boy continues to amaze with his fortitude.  
In the meanwhile, I look for ways of cleansing my blood. The writings and legends on the subject are sparse and contradictory. I don't wish to engage any wizardry on this matter, but I fear they may be the only ones who best know how to navigate these worlds of knowledge._

Kodlak went to write more, but he was interrupted by the doors to his quarters slamming open. Frowning, he set aside his journal to see who had entered. And there stood Farkas, looking uncharacteristically afraid. His chest was heaving and he stared at Kodlak with mildly panicked eyes. It took five words to nearly stop Kodlak's heart. Though the words would sound vague to others, Kodlak knew exactly what Farkas meant by them.

"I think she's like you."


End file.
